


The Magic of Hilda: The Heir of Slytherin

by NoraFTW, wafagan14 (NoraFTW)



Series: The Magic of Hilda [1]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling, Hilda (Cartoon)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-02
Updated: 2020-10-16
Packaged: 2021-03-06 20:08:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 24
Words: 71,106
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26244676
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NoraFTW/pseuds/NoraFTW, https://archiveofourown.org/users/NoraFTW/pseuds/wafagan14
Summary: In Harry's second year he meets a wonderfully strange first-year, a blue-haired girl with a big heart and a thirst for adventure.
Series: The Magic of Hilda [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1906558
Comments: 30
Kudos: 42





	1. The Article

**Author's Note:**

> Hilda is the creative property of Luke Pearson. Harry Potter is the creative property of Hatsune Miku.

From the Daily Prophet, May 28th, 1992:

**Break-in thwarted at Hogwarts!**

**Professor dead, Harry Potter attacked!**

_Hogwarts and the Ministry of Magic have issued a joint statement this morning confirming that yesterday night an unknown individual broke into the school and attempted to steal a priceless magical item in Headmaster Dumbledore's possession. The item, a rare philosopher's stone crafted by the alchemist Nicholas Flamel in the 17th century, was being held by Dumbledore for safekeeping following an attempted burglary in Gringotts in June of last year._

_According to star_ Prophet _reporter Rita Skeeter, Professor Quirinus Quirrell was killed during the robbery, while Boy-Who-Lived Harry Potter was attacked and injured after managing to defeat the unidentified assailant. The assailant is reported to have died of his wounds. While Ms. Skeeter's confidential sources are always held in the highest regard, Headmaster Dumbledore and the Ministry have strenuously denied the claim, labeling them 'scurrilous and irresponsible gossip'. The conspiracy rag_ The Quibbler _reported the break-in to be the action of He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named, who survived his death and seeks to regain his mortal form. Such preposterous rumors are not to be dwelt upon._ _Prophet reporters hoping for a follow-up interview were barred entry to the school by the Ministry Aurors, who were combing the property for evidence._

 _A classified advertisement is to be posted in the_ Prophet _later this week advertising an opening in the Defense Against the Dark Arts position. Possible candidates for the position are Severus Snape, current potions professor and rumored ex-Death Eater, and Gilderoy Lockhart, bestselling author and winner of_ Witch Weekly's _Most Charming Smile Award ten years running._

_Mr. Flemel issued a follow-up press release stating his intent to destroy the stone, stating that the item is too powerful a temptation for theft and that he and his wife Perinelle are 'well-past expiration date, so might as well move on to shadier pastures'._

_Story continued on Page 5_

_For Rita Skeeter's interview with Harry Potter, see Page 4_

_For the history of Nicholas Flemel and the philosopher's stone, see Page 7._

* * *

Another item of note, although one overlooked by many of the British Wizarding population in the ensuing media frenzy:

**UK-Norway Treaty ratified**

_The British and Norwegian Muggle governments signed and ratified a historic treaty this morning solving the long-running territorial dispute over the island of Trolheim. Located in the middle of the North Sea, the island has long been fought over by the two nations, each having staked their own claims in the 18th century for its plentiful fishing grounds and unexplored natural resources. Effective one month from today the island will become a semi-independent province of the United Kingdom. As part of the agreement, the uninhabited islands of Myst, R'lyeh, Lilliput and Qwghlm will be absorbed by Norway for 'oyl' speculation._

_Due to Trolheim's erratic diplomatic condition, it is one of the few territories without a magical statute of secrets. Thus, its menagerie of magical beasts—in particular, its Elf, Vittra, Lindworm, Barghest and Nisse populations—have been of great interest and study by magical and Muggle zoologists. According to the Trolberg Wizard's Guild, the treaty will uphold this exemption due to the logistical nightmare of obliviating the island from 98% of the world's collective memory._

_As part of the treaty, Trolheim's young witches and wizards are to receive invitations to attend Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Headmaster Dumbledore today expressed his hope that the new addition to the school student body will produce "greater house unity...these young students will be less influenced by the house rivalries of old, and thus may break the long-standing social barriers between houses.' Dumbledore also hopes that the addition of Trondheim faculty will shed light on the island's little known magical arts and history. Invitations are expected to be mailed out later this week._


	2. The Owls

High over Trolberg the owls were gathering.

They had traveled a long way: across the North Sea, over the Wilderness peaks, over the ruins of a farmhouse, across the southern woods, over the city wall, over the canal and the square and the school and the library. Some citizens looked up and briefly wondered why so many owls, solitary in nature, were traveling together, and in daylight. Most shrugged and continued about their daily routines.

At the town square, the owls parted ways. They touched down on garden fences and windowsills, birdbaths and flower boxes, mailboxes and fire escapes, and waited, some more patiently than others. Many of them hooted in annoyance at the lack of an owl hole in the eaves of the city's houses. How were the humans expecting to receive their post?

That was another interesting thing about the owls: each one had, upon closer inspection, a leather pouch tied to one leg.

The last owl in the flock, a rather exhausted-looking barn owl, spotted its destination. It was an unassuming apartment building of three stories, rather modern in comparison to Trolberg's more Medieval structures. As it descended, it nearly collided with a raven that had been passing by. "Watch it! Learn to share the sky!"

 _A talking bird,_ the owl thought to itself, _what a strange place_.

The owl flew down and perched on the third-floor fire escape. It hopped to one of the windows and tapped its beak against the pane. No response. The bedroom was empty, its walls covered in pencil sketches of various creatures.

The owl huffed and prepared for a long wait when the window slid open. "Well aren't you lovely!" a voice said. The owl jumped, head swiveling around in confusion. "Down here!" The owl glanced down at the window sill, but there was no one there. "Don't be afraid, you can't see me. You need to fill out the necessary paperwork to do so. Oh, you have something on your leg!"

The owl held out its leg and watched as the flap of the pouch was opened and its contents extracted by an invisible hand. "Thank you! Feel free to rest a while!" the voice said before the window slid shut.

 _What a mad place_ , the owl thought. _Talking birds, phantom voices. The sooner I get back to Scotland, the better._

* * *

"Did you see the owls over the school?"

Hilda stopped, foot half-cocked to kick a pebble down the sidewalk. "No, I didn't. When did this happen?"

"During gym class," David replied. "About fifty owls, all flying in a big cloud. They broke apart over the football field and went in all different directions." David mimed an explosion with his hands. "It was so cool!"

"I wasn't in gym class," Hilda said, pouting. "Ms. Hallgrim made me stay behind to wipe down the blackboard."

"You shouldn't have gone on that rant," Frida said.

"Trolls are not dangerous creatures, just misunderstood!"

"We weren't even talking about trolls! It was science class."

"I'd been stewing it over for a while," Hilda muttered. She stopped in front of her apartment building. "Here's my stop. See you guys at the Sparrow Scout meeting tonight?"

"Of course," Frida said. "We're going over the qualifications for the Orienteering badge. I've been up for days working on the master plan."

Hilda and David shared a glance. "Well, that should be fun," Hilda said, smiling. "I can't wait!"

Hilda entered her building, climbing the three stories to the front door. She was greeted by the clatter of hooves. "Hi, Twig!" Kneeling down on one knee, she laughed as ten pounds of white sweetness filled her arms. "Did you miss me?" She laughed as the deerfox licked her face, tail spinning like a windmill. "I missed you too."

"Hilda?" a voice called out. Hilda walked into her bedroom and scanned the room, searching for the source. She found it standing on her desk, a letter at his feet.

"Hi, Alfur," Hilda said, dropping her backpack and collapsing into her chair. "What's this?" she asked, picking up the letter and inspecting it. "E-mail?"

"No, this isn't from the elves." Alfur climbed up Hilda's arm and took a seat on her shoulder. "An owl delivered it."

"An owl?" Hilda inspected the letter. It was written on parchment, and sealed with a strange wax seal stamped with the image of a boar's head. Above the seal was written in fine cursive, Hilda Dahl, 7 Moomin Terrace, Trolberg. "Frida and David said they saw a bunch of them flying over the school."

"Where were you?"

"With Ms. Hallgrim."

"Did you go off about the trolls?"

"...No." Carefully breaking the wax seal, she unfolded the parchment and read the letter aloud:

> _Dear Miss Dahl,_
> 
> _We are pleased to inform you that you have been accepted at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Please find enclosed a list of all necessary books and equipment. Term begins 1 September. We await your owl by no later than 31 July._
> 
> _Yours sincerely,_
> 
> _Minerva McGonagall_
> 
> _Deputy Headmistress_

Hilda reread the letter twice, eyes scrunched in thought. "This must be a joke."

Alfur rubbed his chin, "Seems rather complex for a joke. Who would go through the effort of training an owl to deliver mail just to fool you?"

Hilda set the letter down and sighed. "Well, have you ever heard of this Hogwarts place?"

"I believe it's one of Europe's most prestigious magical schools in Europe."

"There's more than one?"

Alfur nodded. "There's Hogwarts—that's in England—Durmstrang—somewhere in Sweden, although it's rather infamous for its Dark Arts curriculum—Beauxbatons in France, and Iceland's Bjork Institute for Spacey Pixie Dream Girls (that one may be more of a joke than an actual educational institution)."

"So this is real." Hilda looked down at the letter again, eyes widening.

"It looks official. Signed, sealed and everything."

Hilda set the letter down on the desk and leaned back. "This is wild. What's mum going to think?"

"I'm sure your mother will be excited about your opportunity."

"What about David and Frida?" Hilda glanced over to a picture above the desk. David and Frida stared blankly down at her, arms around each other's shoulders, grinning for Hilda's camera. "I just got used to Trolberg. I can't just go off and leave behind everything I've come to love again."

Alfur nodded, patting Hilda on the shoulder in comfort. "There there, this letter is by no means a binding contract. How you choose to proceed is ultimately your choice. Regardless, I'll stand by you, and I'm sure David and Frida will understand." 

"I guess I'll see what David and Frida think when I see them at the Sparrow Scouts meeting."

* * *

"Remember, Sparrow Scouts, in the event your compass isn't working, moss always grows facing north—unless it's a faux-moss caterpillar, of course."

Hilda, leaned to her right and nudged Frida's shoulder. "So, this may seem like a mad question, but have you received any letters delivered by owl today?"

Frida did a double-take. "You got one too?" she whispered.

Hilda's heart skipped a beat. "Yeah, from some school called Hogwarts."

"Did you say Hogwarts?" David leaned in to join the conversation. "I got one. My mum was washing dishes in the kitchen when this little owl smacked into the window. Mum brought him inside and fixed him up, then saw he had a letter around his leg."

"So it's not a joke!" Hilda said to herself, her heartbeat accelerating.

"I thought so, too, at first." Frida said.

"Why do you think we were invited?" David asked.

"I assumed it's because we have magical talent," Frida replied.

"But I haven't done anything magical in my life. I mean, I can disconnect my thumb from my hand, but that's a magic trick."

"Well, if anyone is qualified to attend this Hogwarts place, it's Hilda."

"Me?" Hilda asked, surprised.

"Yeah. You summoned those tide mice, remember. And that water spirit."

"And you summoned those ghosts," David added. "If anyone's a witch here, it's you."

Hilda blushed. "Well, they wouldn't have sent you two letters if you didn't have some magical ability."

Frida nodded. "I guess we'll see. My letter said that this Ms. McGonagall will be holding an orientation meeting at the Trolberg library next month."

"Then we'll go together," Hilda said, holding out her hand. "Agreed?"

The other two put their hands on top of hers. "Agreed."

"Hilda, David, Frida?" Three heads shot up at the scoutmaster's address. "Is there something happening that is more interesting than my lecture?"

"No, I mean, yes, I mean, no, ma'am," Hilda said, stifling a giggle.


	3. Orientation

"Welcome, children and parents of Trolberg, to the official Hogwarts orientation meeting. On behalf of Hogwarts and the Ministry of Magic, it is my pleasure to welcome you."

The audience applauded politely. The heavy oak tables in the library's grand meeting room had been moved aside. There were about fifty people in attendance, the children leaning forward in their seats looking beyond thrilled, the parents looking rather shell-shocked-Hilda's mother Johanna among them. Minerva McGonagall, the Deputy Headmistress of Hogwarts, stood at a podium, having spent a few minutes adjusting the microphone. She was a prim, no-nonsense older woman in a set of green robes and the obligatory pointed hat. Her face, stern and initially imposing, warmed as she gave the audience a smile. Hilda liked her immediately.

"You are all here because in accordance with the Treaty of Scapa Flow you are eligible to attend our hallowed institution. For nearly two millennia Hogwarts has educated and nurtured some of the greatest witches and wizards of Great Britain, and we are immensely pleased to welcome you to our family.

"Now, I am sure that many of you have questions, so after a short break we will divide everyone into groups, and you will meet with a member of our faculty for a question-answer time."

Hilda met up with Frida and David at the snack table. "Can you believe this?" she said, beaming. "I have so many questions to ask."

Hilda's mother joined the three. "So do I. I must admit, this is rather overwhelming."

"Miss Dahl?" They turned as Ms. McGonagall approached the group. "You, Miss Aiken, Mr. Andersen, and your parents are to meet with Professor Snape in conference room three."

"Professor _Snape?_ " Hilda said, frowning. "I don't like the sound of that."

"Rest assured, Miss Dahl, Severus is one of our most respected professors," McGonagall said. "Though he can be rather gruff."

"Don't judge people before you get to know them, Hilda," her mother said, nudging her. "Remember the lindworm? She wasn't so bad."

McGonagall blinked. "Did you say _Lindworm?_ "

* * *

" _I don't like him,_ " Hilda whispered.

Her mother couldn't help but nod. " _He is rather menacing._ "

 _"How does he make his robes flutter like that?"_ David asked.

"Greetings," the man said, his voice a hushed monotone. "My name is Professor Severus Snape, and I am the school potions master, as well as the Slytherin Head of House. If you have questions I would be happy to answer them," he said, looking anything but pleased. "Bare in mind, any frivolous questions will not be considered. Hogwarts is a fine institution, and we do not suffer troublemakers."

 _"I bet he makes them suffer,"_ Hilda whispered. David shivered.

Frida's mother was the first to raise his hand. "What is the school's curriculum like?"

Snape nodded, evidently satisfied with the question. "Starting in Year One, students are taught Potions, Transfiguration, Astronomy, Charms, History of Magic, Herbology and Defense Against the Dark Arts. Beginning in your third year, students may choose from several elective courses. These include Divination, the _'study'_ of the future," Snape didn't roll his eyes, but Hilda supposed that if he did, they'd roll back into his head. "Arithmancy, Care of Magical Creatures, Muggle Studies, and Study of Ancient Runes. I am told that in Trolheim you use the Norse-Runish alphabet?" A few nods from the audience. "Very good, that will give you an advantage. Flying lessons are also offered to First Years."

"Flying!" Hilda sat up. "Like on broomsticks?"

Snape fixed his gaze on the girl. "Yes, on broomsticks. Miss-?"

"Hilda Dahl."

"Miss Dahl, I must ask you raise your hand if you have a question and do not speak out of turn."

Hilda's mother raised her hand. "You mentioned you were the Head of House for…Slytherin? What exactly does that mean?"

"Ah, yes, the house system. Upon arriving at Hogwarts, new students are sorted into one of three houses. House placement is usually determined by the student's personality, although there have been unusual circumstances. For the brave and… impulsive, there is Gryffindor; for the loyal and hardworking (and attention-seeking), Hufflepuff; for the studious, Ravenclaw; and, for the cunning and ambitious, Slytherin. Once sorted, students will spend the next seven years studying, boarding, and socializing with their assigned house. As the Headmaster would say, consider it a second family. The houses also compete each year for the House Cup, which is assigned based on good work or actions." Snape's lip curled into a faint smile. "Slytherin has won the cup five out of the last six years."

"What about the sixth year?" Hilda asked.

"You hand, Miss Dahl," Snape's smile faded. "That was an...unusual year."

"How will we purchase the necessary supplies mentioned in the letter?" a parent asked.

"Starting next weekend, the Ministry of Magic will be operating Portkeys—those are devices used to apparate, no, ' _teleport_ ' large groups over long distances. They will depart from the Library here and will take you to Diagon Alley, London's magical district. You will need to exchange your currency for galleons at Gringotts Bank. Opening an account is also advisable."

Hilda's mother raised her hand again. "How safe is Hogwarts?"

Snape shifted in his chair. "There are some common injuries, I will not lie: potion mishaps, quidditch accidents—that is a sport played on broomsticks, please do not interrupt, Miss Dahl, or I shall start taking house points before you even enter school grounds. Our infirmary can handle the majority of these injuries quite competently. Any more serious cases are transported to St. Mungo's Hospital in London."

"Has anyone ever died at Hogwarts?" Hilda asked.

Snape pinched the bridge of his nose. "Ten points from…whichever house you are sorted into, Miss Dahl. I do think you'll fit in quite well with Gryffindor. There have been several deaths at Hogwarts, as is usually the case for a school of our age. There has not been a student fatality in almost fifty years. Rest assured, Hogwarts is perhaps the safest place in Magical Britain."

"But there was a death at Hogwarts this year," Frida said, raising her hand. "My parents got a subscription to the _Daily Prophet_ , and they said a teacher was killed."

Snape sighed. "Yes, a most unfortunate event. Last year a thief broke into the school and attempted to steal an item in the Headmaster's safekeeping. Our Defense professor, Mr. Quirrell, was killed in the attack, in which the thief died and a student, Harry Potter, was injured. It was a mistake on the Headmaster's part. We have since strengthened security, and the item has been removed from school property."

"Who is Harry Potter?"

Snape's jaw tightened. "Ten points, Miss Dahl. Mr. Potter is a young troublemaker who as a baby had the poor fortune to lose his parents to a dark wizard, and the 'good' fortune to survive an attack from the dark wizard that in all regards should have killed him. Due to the events surrounding his survival, in which the dark lord was killed, he is held in high regard by many in the Wizarding World. They call him," this time Snape couldn't resist rolling his eyes, "the Boy-Who-Lived. He entered Hogwarts last school year, and since then he has been quite the focus of attention."

"What's this about a dark wizard?" Hilda's mother asked, looking concerned.

Snape closed his eyes and took a deep breath. _"His name—and I will only say it once—was Voldemort…"_

* * *

"What a creepy man," Hilda muttered. "I hope the other professors aren't as strict as him."

Hilda and her mother had left the library and were walking home. It had stopped raining, and the cobbles of the streets shone in the moonlight. Johanna, who had been quiet since the end of the orientation, gave a sigh. "Hilda, I'm worried about this school."

"Is it about the murder? Snape said there was no need to worry. Besides, I've been in danger before. Remember the trolls? The giants? Jellybean?"

Johanna couldn't help but smile. "You do well in a fix, I'll admit that. It's just my duty as your mum to worry."

They'd reached the stone bridge over the canal. They stopped in the center and looked out over the water. Johanna smiled. "Your grandfather was a wizard."

Hilda looked up at her mother, surprised. "You never told me that."

"He studied magical creatures. He built the house out in the mountains to watch the Woffs during their migrations." She looked up to the moon. "He disappeared on one of his expeditions when I was in college, before you born. We never learned what happened to him. He just walked out of the house and never came back."

"...I'm sorry."

"You remind me a lot of granddad. He was adventurous, always pushing the limits, always looking at the world through a special lens. Magic is wonderful, but it can be dangerous. You know that more than anyone else after the tide mice. I worry that one day you'll go off on one of your adventures and not come home."

"That'll never happen, mum." Hilda put her hand over her mother's. "I have Frida and David with me. They've always got my back."

Johanna chuckled. "I know, Hilda." She leaned down and wrapped her daughter in a hug. "I can't stop you from going to Hogwarts-it's too special an opportunity to pass up. I envy you, really. Just promise me you'll be careful."

"I promise."


	4. The Boy in the Cabinet

Hilda did not care for Portkey travel one bit. With a tug at her navel the earth fell out from under her, and she felt as though she were caught in a whirlpool. After several uncomfortable seconds, she landed, stumbling on the unfamiliar cobblestones beneath her feet. Twig was quaking in her arms like an aspen in the wind.

No, she didn't care for the Portkey. Not one bit.

Neither did her mother, apparently. "Goodness," Johanna said, her face white as chalk. "What a ride."

Hilda was about to agree when she looked up and froze. Her words and her shock, died away as she stared saucer-eyed at her surroundings.

Diagon Alley was perhaps the most fascinating place she had ever seen. A hodgepodge of old stone and timber buildings, some leaning precariously over the streets, formed a long shopping promenade. At the end of the street the stern marble facade of Gringotts bank rose above the other buildings. The streets were packed with men, women and children all dressed in a technicolor assortment of robes.

Hilda tried to find an appropriate response to the visual overload before her. "Wow," was all she could come up with.

"I know, I didn't know what I expected it to be like, but exceeds expectations."

"Where should we go first?" Hilda asked.

"Well, I need to go to the bank and open your account," Johanna said, pulling up her sleeve to check her watch. "You can look around, and we'll meet up at the bookshop at 11:30. Have fun, and don't get lost." They split up, Johanna going in one direction, Hilda and Twig in another.

Every shop window offered a new and incredible sight. Outside a sports supply shop, three young boys pressed their noses against the glass.

_"Wicked, a Nimbus 2001!"_

_"I hear it's faster than the 2000 model."_

_"Yeah, but you pay for it with less maneuverability on tight turns."_

The next shop was a pet store. In the window, several owls sat perched in brass bird cages, some sleeping, others preening themselves, on great horned owl snacking on a freeze-dried vole. "Shame they don't have a snowy owl." Twig looked up at Hilda and whimpered. Hilda laughed and patted him on the head. "Don't worry, Twig, I'm taking you to school with me. I want one for mum so we can send letters to each other. They're too expensive, I think," Hilda said, noticing a price tag on one of the cages. Hilda and her mother lived comfortably enough, but with Johanna's graphic design work and the part-time job at the hardware store, thrift was sometimes necessary. She turned away from the window. "Let's keep going. I want to see the potion supply shop. _Eye of newt and salamander tails!_ " she said, cackling like an old witch from a movie.

She moved on, past a family of gingers. The mother was pulling at her hair. "Where in Merlin's name could he be?"

"I'll go and ask around. He can't have floo'd in too far away," the father said, kissing his wife before dashing towards Gringotts.

Hilda walked on, eyes skyward, watching the buildings leaning overhead. As she walked on, they suddenly began to loom more menacingly, the strip of sky between the opposite rooftops getting narrower and narrower. It was only when Twig whimpered that she stopped and took stock of her surroundings. "Where are we?"

They were in a narrow, dimly lit street, probably one of the smaller alleys that branched off from Diagon Alley. Various unseemly individuals in hooded cloaks passed, some taking notice of her, most ignoring her completely. Hilda was bumped aside by an aristocratic man in a fur-lined cloak, carrying an ebony walking stick. "Sorry," she said.

"Watch where you're going," the man replied. He turned to the boy behind him, possibly his son. "Come, Draco, we must hurry."

Hilda watched the two strangers walk downa ways before turning out of sight. "Rude," she muttered.

* * *

Johanna passed through the doorway of Gringotts and stopped, amazed. It seemed as though every time she found one amazing sight there was another just around the corner that trumped the last one. Her gaze fell from the high domed ceiling to the teller counters and the creatures seated behind them. "What on Earth are they?" she asked to herself.

" _Goblins._ "

Johanna nearly leapt out of her skin. "Alfur?" she asked aloud. Several of the other bank patrons gave her a strange look. She smiled sheepishly and lowered her voice. "Have you been here all along?"

"Yes. I wanted to write a report on human magical culture for the elves back home, so I tagged along." Alfur hopped off of Johanna's shoulder and onto the flap of her purse. "It's all so fascinating, isn't it?"

Johanna nodded, looking back to the ugly creatures. "Goblins, you say?"

"Don't stare," Alfur advised. "They are proud creatures, quick to irritate. Be polite and don't smile."

"Why not?"

"They may smile back, and that is a rather unpleasant sight to behold."

Johanna nodded, took a deep breath, and walked to the first available space at the counter. "Good morning, I would like to open an account."

The goblin, whose gold nameplate identified him as Lockjaw, looked up and frowned. "I will fetch the accounts manager. Please wait here."

The accounts manager appeared twenty minutes later followed by a tall, blond-haired man wearing fine robes and a perpetual smirk and accompanied by a blond boy about Hilda's age. "Thank you for coming in, Lord Malfoy. Always a pleasure to do business with our most valuable-ah, _valued_ patron."

"Don't grovel, Hookfang, it's demeaning for the both of us." The man paused next to Johanna and looked her over, lip twitching into a sneer. "More Muggles every year," he said, shaking his head. "Come, Draco. We need to get to Borgin and Burke's before the old man closes for lunch."

Hookfang waited until the man was out the door, then wiped the reverential smile from his face. "Ostentatious wretch," he muttered, followed by something in an unknown tongue ( _Gobbledegook_ , Alfur whispered to Johanna). He noticed Johanna and scowled. "You're here about the account?"

Before Johanna could reply, a man with a shock of ginger hair ran into the hall. "Have you seen Harry Potter?" he asked, catching sight of Hookfang.

Hookfang turned to a teller and barked something in Gobbledegook. "He has not been in here," the goblin replied. "But we will keep an eye out, Mr. Weasley."

The man nodded, then dashed back into the street. Hookfang shook his head and turned back to Johanna. "Follow me, please."

They passed behind the teller booth and through the door, which led to a ramped passageway carved from the rock below the bank's foundations. After making various turns and going through several doors, they reached Hookfang's office, a small but well-furnished room with several axes mounted on the wall behind his chair. Sitting down, he reached over to a tea kettle and poured something into an earthenware mug. "Foxglove tea?" he asked, pointing to a second mug.

"No, thank you."

The goblin nodded and took a sip from his mug. "You're a Muggle," he said.

Johanna frowned. "I'm sorry, but I've heard that word used several times in the last few weeks, and I don't quite know what it means."

"Definitely a Muggle," Hookfang said, setting his cup down. "A Muggle is the Ministry of Magic's term for a human without magical ability."

"My father was a wizard," Johanna replied.

"Ah! So you're a squib."

"A _what_?"

"The child of a witch or wizard without any magical ability."

"I suppose I am," Johanna thought for a few moments. "Does magical status matter much in the wizarding world?"

Hookfang snorted, waving a gnarled hand in the air. "Immensely. It's all rot, if you ask me. The Purebloods think they're hot dragon dung because they're so interbred half of them are insane. They resent the 'Muggleborns' who they say are diluting the wizarding world. Of course, anyone can be gifted with magic, whether their parents are a Malfoy or a butcher from Stoke. But try telling the Purebloods that."

"I see," Johanna said, frowning.

The goblin coughed, reaching for his mug. "I apologize for the tangent. Back to the reason for this meeting: I'll need to collect some information in order to open the account. Your name?"

"Johanna Dahl."

The goblin picked up a quill and began to fill out the form, then stopped, eyes widening. He pushed down so hard the tip of the quill snapped off, splattering red ink (or Johanna hoped it was ink) across the form. " _Dahl,_ you say?"

"Yes."

"Your father, his name was Dahl as well?"

"Rasmus Dahl, yes."

Hookfang stood up quickly, nearly upsetting his tea. "I'll need to get my supervisor. Please wait here."

The goblin went out to the hall and closed the door behind him. Form the frantic sounds echoing from the hall, Johanna guessed that Hookfang had broken into a runner's sprint, rather impressive for one with such short legs.

"How strange," she said.

A few minutes later, Hookfang returned, followed by a fat goblin with a Van Dyke goatee. "Ms. Dahl, my name is Rotgut. I am the manager of your grandfather's estate. May I say that it is an honor to finally meet you. Now we can settle things once and for all."

"Settle what?" Johanna asked.

"Your inheritance, of course."

* * *

"How can we be lost?" Hilda moaned, halting in front of the same tavern she'd passed three times. "There are only two ways to go: forward and backward."

She looked around, spotting a shop. "I guess it couldn't hurt to ask for directions," she said. The plaque beside the door read _Borgin and Burkes: Antiques and Cursebreakers._ She pushed open the door and walked in, Twig bounding behind.

The shop was dusty and ill-lit, the narrow aisles hemmed in with objects mundane and bizarre. Next to an iron maiden, a man stood talking to the shopkeeper. Hilda recognized him as the tall man who had bumped into her on the street. They were speaking to one another in low voices. Hilda crept closer and listened in.

"Do you have any new poisons in stock, Borgin?" the man asked.

"Unfortunately not, Lucius. The Ministry has been rather strict in cracking down on such sales."

"Hmm, pity. Very well, thank you for your time."

"Just a moment, Lucius. That is quite the unique item you have there. I would pay good money for it, if you are interested."

The man called Lucius tucked something back into his robes. "I'm afraid it's not for sale, Borgin, and if you can forget you ever saw it, I'll give you five galleons for your assistance."

"Make it ten," Borgin said.

Lucius muttered something, but searched his robe pocket, producing a handful of gold coins. "I was never here."

"Of course. We are always discrete in our dealings."

"Father!" a boy spoke up from another aisle. "There's this interesting necklace over here. The sign says its killed several of its prior owners."

"I am well aware of that infernal necklace. Your Aunt Bellatrix tried to give it to your mother on our wedding day."

It was then that Hilda bumped her elbow against a small gong, toppling it off the table and onto the floor with a drawn-out _BONG!_ Lucius and Borgin's heads turned towards the aisle. Hilda squeaked and crawled towards the door.

"Do you have a rat infestation, Borgin?"

"If I do, it'll soon be dead. You go that way, we'll surround them."

Hilda looked around frantically for somewhere to hide. Her eyes fell on a tall cabinet. Crawling over to it, she opened the door and crept inside, gently shutting it behind her.

It was only after standing up that she realized the cabinet was already occupied. A hand clapped over her mouth before she could shriek. " _Don't make a sound_ ," a boy's voice whispered.

 _"Found anything, Lucius?"_ Borgin called out.

 _"No. The little rat has had a lucky break."_ There was suddenly a loud shout of surprise and the sound of large objects falling over.

_"What is it, Lucius?"_

_"A deerfox!"_

_"What, in my store?"_

_"Draco, grab it!"_

_"Ow! It bit me!"_

_"Borgin, get the bloody door open!"_ After a few more loud crashes and swears, the door opened and slammed shut. _"How in Merlin's name did that creature get in here? Aren't they only found in Trolheim?"_

_"The Magical Menagerie must've had a jailbreak. Awfully sorry for the trouble, Lucius."_

_"No matter. Come, Draco."_

_"What about my hand?"_

_"Stop whinging, boy. You're not even bleeding."_

Hilda waited, breath held until the front door opened and closed. The hand over her mouth fell away. "Ok, we can go."

Hilda opened the cabinet door and looked out. There was no sign of Borgin. She stepped out and turned. "Coast is clear." They hurried out the door and back onto the street.

The boy looked to be about her age. His black hair was impossibly messy, while his bright green eyes were slightly magnified by a pair of round glasses. Above his nose was a curious scar the shape of a lightning bolt. "What were you doing in there?" she whispered.

"I could ask you the same question," the boy replied, giving a nervous smile.

A bark attracted their attention to a nearby trash bin, around which appeared Twig. "Twig! Good job, boy!" Hilda picked up the deerfox and hugged it to her face.

"What is that?" the boy asked.

"This is Twig, my pet deerfox."

"Wow," the boy said. He held out a hand, only to quickly pull it back. "Can I?"

"Go ahead, he's really friendly. Well, usually."

"Anyone who hates Malfoy must be a friend," the boy said. He scratched Twig between the antlers, eliciting a furious tail wagging.

"Thank you, by the way." She held out her hand. "I'm Hilda."

The boy smiled and shook her hand. "Harry Potter."

Hilda blinked, then realized. "Oh, you're-"

"Yeah," Harry replied, looking rather embarrassed.

" 'Arry!" a voice called out. A very large man with a great bushy beard stepped out of a doorway and walked over to them.

"Hagrid!" Harry said, relieved. "What are you doing here?"

"Never you mind. What in Merlin's name are y'doing 'ere? Knockturn Alley is no place fer a child. Full of dark magic"

"I flooed in here by mistake," Harry explained. "I'm sorry, Hagrid."

"Don't be sorry. We can't all do a proper Floo on our first try. I've never liked it meself—have to squeeze myself into the fireplace, it's just uncomfortable. Come with me, did you come here with the Weasleys?" Harry nodded. "I s'pose we'll try the bookshop first." He then noticed the girl standing behind Harry. "Oh, hello. Is this a friend of yers, 'arry?"

"We've just met," Harry said.

"That's a lovely creature you 'ave there with you, young lady." Twig seemed pleased by the surplus of attention paid to him. "Well, you two can come with me. Goodness knows I can't jus' leave you 'ere. My name is Rubeus Hagrid. I'm the groundskeeper at Hogwarts. What's yer name?"

* * *

The meeting moved to a nearby conference room. Johanna watched, dumbstruck, as Hookfang and Rotgut entered the room carrying a massive lockbox between them, which they placed with a table-groaning thud before her. "I don't understand. How come I wasn't aware of my father's will?"

Rotgut grimaced. "Unfortunately, when it comes to dealing with Muggles, we have a great deal of difficulty. We had no idea of your whereabouts, certainly not that you were in a different country, so the box has just been here in your father's vault, waiting."

"I see," Johanna said. "Well, then, let's take a look, shall we?"

Rotgut nodded and, producing a key from a ring on his belt, undid the lock and opened the box. Inside were several folded pages of parchment and a worn, leather-bound journal. "Would you like to see the will first?"

Johanna nodded, accepting the stack of parchment and spreading them out on the table. Her eyes scanned the document, struggling to make out the small, intricate script. "Alfur, what do you make of this?"

The elf jumped down onto the table and inspected the document. He whistled. "Well, this is a masterpiece of a document, I assure you. Signed, dated, and witnessed April 3rd, 1970. My compliments to whoever crafted it." Rotgut gave a pleased smirk. "So many clauses! Let me find the one that applies to us. Ah! Here it is. _'If my brothers and sisters are deceased by the time of this reading, then the bulk of my estate, including the contents of my Gringotts vault totaling roughly eighty-thousand galleons-adjusting for today's rate, with 2% interest, golly, that's a lot of gold-I leave to my daughter, Johanna Dahl. Also included are the royalties from my books, any heirlooms included in my vault (i.e., jewels, paintings, stocks), and my diaries.'_ After that, it lists some additional recipients, including the Paris Museum of Cryptozoology, the Dragon Conservation Fund, and you, Mr. Rotgut!"

"Very kind of him to remember me," the goblin said, looking legitimately moved.

Johanna ran a hand across her head. She had broken into a cold sweat. "I don't know what to say, this is all so overwhelming."

"I dare say the feeling is mutual, Ms. Dahl," Rotgut replied, nodding. "Your father was a very dear friend of the Goblins. He wrote the first book on Goblin history and culture-well, the first book that wasn't full of lies. If you would like, Hookfang and I will leave you for a few moments to collect yourself." He gestured to Hookfang, and the two goblins left.

Johanna shuffled together the pages of the will and replaced them in the box, then pulled out the small journal. Flipping through it, an envelope fell from the pages and onto the table. Johanna, it said, written in neat letters. Johanna pulled out the letter and began to read:

_My dear, Johanna,_

_If you are reading this, then my voyage did not go according to plan. I'm sorry for the pain I may have caused you, but this was a trip I couldn't afford to put off any longer. I hope you have grown into a strong woman, and that you and your children have found all the peace and happiness that the wizarding world could not provide at the time of my writing this. You probably have many questions, and I am short of time, the bane of any old man's existence. I hope you do not despise me for my disappearance, but I had to go. I had to try and find Her, one last time…_

* * *

Flourish and Blotts was packed with people. Thankfully, a half-giant is a good friend to have in a crowd. Hagrid pushed a path through, muttering apologies, while Harry and Hilda followed in the gap left in his wake.

"So you're a half-giant?" Hilda asked.

"Aye, on me mum's side," Hagrid replied.

"I've met a forest giant before, and the last two old giants-they crushed my house accidentally."

"Those are quite bigger than yer average European giant. I'd love to ask ye 'bout them, but when we 'ave more time. Ah, Arthur! Molly!" He waved a meat-pie hand to someone in the crowd.

The two ginger-haired parents from earlier pushed their way through the crowd to Hagrid. "Harry! Thank Merlin you're alright!" Molly Weasley wrapped the boy into a tight hug. "Where on earth did the floo take you?"

"Knockturn Alley," Hagrid answered.

Arthur groaned. "I've been complaining to the Ministry about the dodgy Floo connection between Diagon and Knockturn for years, now. Well, you're safe, Harry, that's all that matters. Ah, and you have a friend!"

"Hello," Hilda said, stepping forwards. "I'm Hilda, and this is Twig. Please, don't compliment him, I think he's getting spoiled." The deerfox gave a disappointed whine.

"Pleased to meet you. You must be another first year. We've had six children in Hogwarts," Molly said, looking a tad proud. "Our daughter, Ginevra will be starting this year as well."

"Exciting, isn't it? I remember my first year. Goodness, thinking about it makes me feel rather old." Arthur chuckled.

"Have you seen my mum?" Hilda asked. "She has brown hair, and is probably whispering to herself—it's a long story."

Molly shook her head. "Can't say we have. Have you, Arthur? No. Do you know where she could be?"

"She was going to the bank."

"Those goblins love their paperwork," Arthur said, "I'm sure she's just held up. You can stick with us until we find her. Come along, we're on the mezzanine. The Grangers are with us, Harry."

"I'd better take my leave," Hagrid said. "Low ceilings make me nervous." Hilda supposed that to him, any ceiling was a low ceiling. "See you at school, Harry. Pleased to meet you, Hilda." He turned and made his way to the door, wincing as his head knocked against the low-hanging sign.

They followed the Weasley's through the crowd and up a narrow stairwell to the balcony, which was considerably less crowded. "Why are there so many people?" Hilda asked, walking to the rail and looking out over the room.

"It's Gilderoy Lockhart, the author," Mr. Weasley explained. "He's doing a book signing. Fortunately, Flourish knows me, and let us watch the show from up here."

"Harry!" Two voices called out. A ginger boy and a girl with long, bushy hair ran over and wrapped Harry in a twin hug.

"Hi, Hermione," Harry said, patting the girl on the back. "I missed you, too."

"Glad you found us," the other boy said. "Ginny's been worried sick." The red-haired girl behind him gave a squeak of fright and ducked behind a bookshelf. "Been driving us mental with her worrying."

"Guys, I'd like you to meet Hilda. She helped me out in Knockturn Alley."

Before they could speak further, the store broke into applause, and they went to the railing to see a man in bright robes jump onto a makeshift stage and give the audience a dazzling smile.

"Thank you, thank you!" the man said, waving as the applause died down. "So glad to see so many fans here today. Have I got a treat for you! Who else is here but the great Harry Potter! He's up in the mezzanine, give the audience a wave, Harry!" Harry blushed and ducked out of sight from the eyes of the crowd, inadvertently coming face-to-face with Ginny. The boy blushed. Gilderoy laughed. "So modest, isn't he? We'll try and get a word out of him after the reading. Well, anyway, on with the show! Who wants to hear about my latest adventure? I would like a lovely young lady to come up to the stage and help me act out my battle with the Amazon Queen of Themyscira..."

* * *

"What a blowhard," Ron muttered as Gilderoy Lockhart finally left the bookshop in a crowd of admirers. "I can't believe they picked him to be the new Defense Against the Dark Arts professor."

"What? Him?" Hilda asked, looking back at the stage in disbelief. "But he knows nothing! Barghests aren't driven mad by the full moon, and Nisse don't steal! He's a fraud."

Hermione frowned. "He wouldn't write lies and sell them as the truth, Hilda."

Hilda huffed and crossed her arms. "I don't care. He's wrong."

"Well, now that the crowd's thinning out we can get out books," Mr. Weasley said, glancing back down at the room below. "Hilda, is that your mother coming through the door now?"

"Mum!" Hilda ran down the stairs. "You're late."

"Sorry, I got held up at the bank. We now have an account for you. Alfur was able to negotiate a good contract."

"I got you an interest rate .5% over the bank average," the elf said, looking somewhat pleased with himself. "You can also withdraw money via owl-post with no transaction fees."

"Hello, you must be Hilda's mother," Mr. and Mrs. Weasley had joined them with Harry, Ron, Hermione, the Grangers, and the rest of the Weasley clan following behind. "How do you do? I'm Molly Weasley, and this is my husband, Arthur. The red-haired lot behind me are my children."

"Pleased to meet you," Johanna said, taking the witch's hand. "I'm Johanna Dahl. It's very nice to meet you."

Mr. and Mrs. Granger stepped forward and introduced themselves. "You look as amazed as we do," Mrs. Granger said, laughing. "Are you non-magical?"

"Sort of," Johanna replied. "I suppose I'm a squib, and we live in Trolberg, rather out of the way."

"Trolberg?" Arthur asked. "Ah, so your daughter and her friends are some of the new exchange students? Excellent! I'm so glad you are getting along well here."

"It takes some getting used to," Johanna admitted, "but you know the saying: go with the flow."

"I don't, actually," Arthur said. "Is that a Muggle phrase? You must tell me more about Muggle slang."

"Well, well, if it isn't the Weasleys." The man and boy from Borgin and Burkes stood in the doorway. "How nice to see the family all together. I'm sure you all needed a break from the rat's nest you call a home."

"Lucius," Mr. Weasley said, face tightening. "A pleasure to see you, as always."

" _Draco,_ " Harry said.

" _Potter,_ " the blond boy replied, scowling. "Have the Weasleys adopted you as one of their own? Just what they need, more mouths to feed."

Lucius put a hand on his son's shoulder. "Draco, save the polite conversation to the adults. Go and get your books." Draco walked off, muttering under his breath.

"We can be civilized, Lucius," Arthur replied. "We're not at work."

Lucius rolled his eyes. "Very well, I'll leave you to it. The bargain bins are that way, Arthur."

"Yes, thank you, Lucius," Arthur replied. _"I know,"_ he added under his breath.

Harry watched Lucius walk away, jaw clenched. "Leave it, Harry," Hermione said, grabbing his hand and guiding him away. "It's not worth the bother."

Hilda turned to her mother. " _I saw those two in Knockturn Alley!_ " she whispered.

" _Where?_ "

" _...Uh, doesn't matter_."

"Your mother and I saw them at the bank," Alfur said, popping out of Johanna's handbag. "Not the most pleasant of people."

"The Malfoys are rather haughty," Molly Weasley explained. "But very rich, so we have to respect them, however soul-crushing it may be."

"Go and collect your, books, Hilda. I'll be here with Mr. and Mrs. Weasley if you need me."

Hilda wandered off, scanning the high bookcases. "Look, this one's about Hogwarts!" she said, opening the book to a painting of the castle and showing it to Twig. "That's gonna be our new home, boy!"

As she stood up to replace the book, someone rounded the corner and collided with her, sending her tumbling to the ground. A hand reached down and pulled her up. "Sorry," Hilda began, then stopped. It was the Malfoy man's son, Draco.

Draco opened his mouth, then stopped. "Well, I mean, it's all right."

"My name is Hilda," she said.

"You're one of Potter's new followers?" the boy asked, his expression returning to one of regal condescension.

"We've only just met, actually."

"Take my advice, you'll never get anywhere at Hogwarts with him."

"I'd like to decide that for myself, but thank you for your opinion."

Twig barked, having caught up to her owner. Draco jumped in surprise, eyes landing on the deerfox. He then looked up at Hilda, eyes wide in shock. " _You…_ "

Hilda grimaced, looking around. "You won't tell, will you?"

Draco calmed down, then peered around the corner, spotting his father by the counter. He was pulling something from his robes and shifting it between his hands, an uncharacteristic look of worry on his face. "No, I won't," Draco promised, internally pondering what on earth made him agree to such a stupid request.

"Thanks," Hilda smiled. "I'm sorry Twig bit you. Is your finger alright?"

The boy rubbed his thumb with his forefinger gently. "It doesn't hurt anymore."

"He won't do it again."

"Well, see that he doesn't," the boy said, then turned on his heel and quickly walked off to rejoin his father.

Hilda shrugged off the encounter and continued browsing. Reaching the nature section, her eye caught a title on a spine: _Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them_. Intrigued, she pulled the book from the shelf, accidentally pulling the one next to it out and onto the floor, cover flipping open. Bending down to grab the fallen book, she paused as she read its title page:

 **_Beasts of the_ ** _**Trolheim** _ **_Wilds  
_ ** _by Newt Scamander & Rasmus Dahl_

"Mum!" She picked up the book and ran to find Johanna. "Look! Grandad wrote a book!" she pushed the volume into her mother's hands and pointed to the name on the spine.

Mrs. Weasley leaned over and read the title. "Oh, you're Rasmus Dahl's granddaughter! My son Charlie read your grandfather's guide to dragon handling when he was in Hogwarts. He ended up becoming a dragon handler after graduation, to my deep dismay."

Johanna handed the book back to Hilda and smiled. "I was going to tell you later, but it seems your grandad was quite the celebrity. Go ahead and put it back; the goblins gave me a box of his books when we opened his vault at Gringotts-I'm having them shipped back home."

"Wicked!"

"Did my ears deceive me?" Lucius Malfoy appeared beside Johanna. "Rasmus Dahl's daughter? I never knew he had any children. What year were you at Hogwarts?"

Johanna gave a faint, embarrassed smile. "I never went to Hogwarts. Hilda inherited my father's magical genes-it seemed to have skipped over me."

"I see," Lucius said, smirking. "Explains why Rasmus never mentioned you-it would have been bad for his image to have a squib for a daughter. Don't be upset, it's common practice for Pureblood families to… send their squibs off."

"Shut up!" Hilda piped up, face turning red. "You know nothing about my grandad, and you have no right to insult my mum."

"Really, Lucius!" Arthur Weasley strode across the room, a stack of worn books under one arm. "That is out of line!"

"Typical Arthur, always a friend of Muggledom," Lucius mocked. "You're a shining example of the future of the Purebloods; powerless, feckless, useless, and knutless."

"Leave him alone!" Hilda shouted.

Lucius turned to the girl. "You do not have the right to speak to me in that tone of voice, little girl. Didn't mummy teach you manners?"

"I did, actually," Johanna replied through clenched teeth.

"Can't say the same for your mum," Hilda added.

"How dare you!" Malfoy stepped towards Hilda, cane raised menacingly.

" _Malfoy, no_!" Arthur dropped his books and went for his wand.

" ** _Stop!_** " Hilda shut her eyes and screamed. A cold sensation flooding through her chest, traveling down her arms to her clenched fists. Twin orbs of blue light shot from her hands, striking Lucius Malfoy in the chest and sending him flying off his feet. He flew across the room, impacted the wall, and collapsed in a heap on a table of Gilderoy Lockhart's books, dazed senseless.

Hilda opened her eyes, then looked down at her still-smoking hands. " _Oh._ "

* * *

"I don't think there's any reason to worry, Miss Dahl." The Auror called to the scene, Kingsley Shacklebolt, flipped his notepad closed, and smiled at Hilda. "This is just a straightforward case of underage accidental magic. It's very common, usually caused by intense stress or danger. Completely natural."

"Bah!" Lucius Malfoy limped over, face twisted in anger. His menace was somewhat betrayed by the cotton wads stemming the flow of blood from his broken nose. "I want that girl arrested for assault and her wand snapped in half!"

"I haven't got a wand yet," Hilda noted.

Auror Shacklebolt seemed unimpressed. "Lord Malfoy, we do not punish first-year students for something they haven't even learned to control. If you do insist on pressing charges, I'd love to interview the dozen-or-so witnesses who saw you raise your cane at Miss Dahl."

"You wouldn't dare!" Lucius hissed.

"Try me. I'll get Amelia on the floo right away if you'd like."

Lucious scowled. "That will not be necessary. Draco!" he shouted. His son's head appeared from behind a cutout of Gilderoy Lockhart's smiling face. "We are leaving." Stepping forward, he stopped as his foot kicked at one of the books Arthur Weasley had dropped. Stooping over, he collected several of them, shoving them into Mr. Weasley's arms. "Enjoy the rest of your shopping, Arthur," he said before storming off.

Alfur, who had watched the entire confrontation quietly from behind Hilda's ear, had been the only one present to notice that Mr. Malfoy had added an extra book to Mr. Weasley's pile.


	5. A Wand, a Train, and a Hat

After the debacle at Flourish and Blotts, the Dahls parted with the Weasleys and adjourned to a nearby restaurant for cucumber sandwiches and something called pumpkin juice, which was more delicious than the name implied. "I'm sorry you had to go through that, Hilda," Johanna said, swirling the juice around her cup.

"Why was that man so rude?" Hilda asked. "We didn't even do anything to him."

"There's a little bit of prejudice in the wizarding world, as I'm learning," Johanna explained. "There are some, the Malfoys for example, who dislike people based solely on their magical heritage."

"That's ridiculous," Hilda grumbled. "We've done nothing wrong."

"I know, honey."

"I'll show them," Hilda sat up, puffing her chest out. "I'll be the best witch I can be, and show those snobby wizards they're full of air."

"I'm sure you will," Johanna said, patting Hilda on the head. "Now, let's go and get the rest of your supplies."

* * *

The rest of the day went without major incident. Hilda and her mother visited the necessary shops; picking up a cauldron from the apothecary, robes from Madame Malkin's, even a toy shop where Johanna bought a wizard chess set. Finally, they stopped outside of Ollivander's. "Do you want me to come in with you?" Johanna asked.

"I'll be alright."

"Ok, I have to go and pick something up down the street. Alfur will go in with you."

"C'mon, Hilda!" the elf leapt off of Johanna's shoulder to Hilda's. "Let's get you your wand!"

Hilda entered the shop. Rays of sunlight illuminated the dust floating in the air, landing on shelves behind the counter stacked with boxes to the ceiling. She walked up to the counter and peered over it, looking for a shop attendant. "Hello?" she called out.

"Good afternoon." The man had seemingly appeared from thin air, fingers splayed on the counter as he leaned over to get a look at Hilda. "A first year? Here for your wand?"

"Y-yes," Hilda stammered. "I'm Hilda Dahl."

"Ah, a Dahl! I sold a wand to your grandfather, many years ago. Yew, eight-and-a-half inches, phoenix feather core."

"You remember my grandad?"

"I remember everyone who's ever bought a wand from my establishment." He then looked to the girl's shoulder. "Are you aware there is an elf on your shoulder?"

"You can see me?" Alfur asked, surprised.

"I've long been in contact with the hidden folk," Ollivander replied, smiling. "They tend to cluster around trees of good wandmaking quality. Hold out your dominant arm please, Miss Dahl." Ollivander produced a roll of measuring tape, which began to take the measurements of Hilda's arm and hand on its own accord. "Hmm, I think I might have something for you," the old man said before vanishing into the shelves. He returned with a box, from which he removed a wand and handed it to Hilda. "Give it a wave."

Hilda obeyed. "No, not that one," Ollivander muttered, taking the wand back and returning to the shelves. "This sometimes takes time."

"What was wrong with that one?"

"It didn't fit you. The wand chooses the wizard, Miss Dahl, not the other way around. Let's see… here's another."

They went through a half-dozen wands, each failing to pass Ollivander's standards. " _No, no, no,_ " he muttered, going back to the shelves, tossing boxes to the floor as he searched. " _Too short...too long...too crooked...too yellow_." He stopped, placing his hand on one of the boxes. "Hmmm," he ran his long fingers over the lid, eyes staring off into the distance. "I wonder." He picked up the box and brought it to the counter. "Here, try this one. Ash, 8 inches, raven feather core."

Hilda pulled the wand from the box and waved it in the air. A blue, misty light like the one that had come from her Hands in the bookshop emanated from the tip, rising into the air. Ollivander clapped his hands together and gave a cry of excitement. "Amazing! For generations, my family has been guarding that wand, waiting for its proper owner to come through those doors."

"What's so special about it?" Hilda asked, inspecting it. She noticed the shaft was engraved with runes.

"That wand was given to my family by a wandmaker from the Scandinavian wilds," Ollivander explained. "Legend tells it comes from a branch of Yggdrasil, the Norse religions holy tree from which the universe was formed. It is a wand of great power, great darkness, too."

"Darkness?" Hilda glanced down at the wand. A strange heat seemed to emanate from it.

"Yes. Great things could be done with that wand. Terrible things as well. It all rests in the wand's caster, my dear. Your magical core is a peculiar one. There is great darkness within you, but also great kindness."

"What does that make me? Evil?"

"Not necessarily. The wand chooses its wizard, but the wizard chooses what to do with his wand." With that, Ollivander's eyes lost their moonish intensity, and he sat up. "That'll be four galleons, please."

* * *

Hilda left the shop to find her mother holding something large in her arms covered in a black shroud. "Did it go alright?"

"Yep," Hilda said quickly. The wand pulsed gently in her pocket. "What's that in your arms?"

Johanna smiled. "A surprise." She pulled the shroud away, revealing a cage with a Great Horned Owl slumbering on a perch.

"Wow!" Hilda ran over to the cage and looked through the bars at the sleeping bird.

"Now I'll be able to send you mail at school."

"How did you afford this?"

Johanna smiled. "Your grandfather had many secrets, it seems, one of which was that he had my inheritance sitting in his vault at Gringotts. It seems we won't have to worry about money again."

Hilda hugged her mother. "I'm happy for you, mum."

* * *

"Your grandfather wrote _all_ of these books?" Frida asked, picking a volume out of the crate and inspecting it ( _Nidhogg, Asgard & the Myth of the Tesseract_) with curiosity.

"Yeah! He knew all about magical creatures. He and his friend Scamander did loads of research together, traveling all over the world!"

David, who had been skimming through a copy of _How to Ride Woffs_ , looked up. "He sounds like he was just like you, Hilda."

"I know! I can't wait to see some of the creatures he talks about in his books! Maybe I'll get to see ones he'd never met!"

"Some of these creatures sound dangerous," Frida noted. "Like these dragons."

"The Lindworm wasn't dangerous."

"Only when we gave her those weeds from the forest," Frida pointed out. "She was prepared to barbeque us before that."

"My grandfather says in his books that magical creatures have their own unique moralities and perspectives. We know that, but by learning about them, we see the similarities outnumber the differences."

"I guess you're right," Frida said. "So, did you two get your wands?"

David pulled his wand from his pocket, "I did! Holly, nine inches, unicorn hair. Hilda, what about yours?"

Hilda smiled awkwardly. "Same."

Frida frowned. "But Ollivander said that no two wands are alike."

"Well, not exactly the same, but similar," Hilda lied. The wand pulsed again in her pocket. "Can you believe school starts in just two weeks?" she asked, changing the subject.

"I can hardly wait!" Frida said. "I've been reading all about the school in _Hogwarts: A History_. Did you know the lake by the school has a giant squid?"

"Wow! I can't wait to see it!"

"Knowing you," David said, "I'd be surprised if you don't end up befriending it."

The three friends laughed together, and the conversation soon drifted to more mundane topics for the rest of the evening.

* * *

The portkey deposited the Trolheim students and their parents right beside the scarlet engine of the Hogwarts Express. David, his face the color of an unripe tomato, hurried over to a trash bin.

"I hate portkeys," Frida said, her heart still beating.

"I know the feeling. It's like getting sucked down the drain with the bathwater," Hilda agreed.

"That was my biggest fear when I was little," David said, rejoining them. "I was afraid of baths for years."

Johanna came over, dragging a traveling case behind her. "You'd better get on the train, Hilda. I'll send you an owl as soon as I get back home."

Frida's parents hugger her goodbye. "Don't let your excitement for this new experience impact your performance," her father said.

"I won't, dad."

"Goodbye, David," his mother said. "We packed extra blankets for you. A stone castle might get draughty in winter."

"Thanks, mum."

"Hold on, sweetie. There's a bug on you." David's father picked the spider off his son's jumper and flicked it away. "There you are. Have fun, and stay safe."

The students boarded the train just as it began to chuff out of the station, waving from the door to the parents until they left Platform 9¾ in the cloud of steam from the train's engine.

Hilda, Frida and David made their way through the corridors, looking for an empty compartment. While most were already taken, they managed to find one occupied only by a young, blond girl with peculiar turnip earrings. "May we sit here?" Frida asked.

The girl lowered her magazine and smiled. "Of course, watch out for the nargles, though."

" _Nargles?_ " Hilda asked, looking around the empty compartment.

"They like to hide under the seats," the girl explained.

Hilda frowned, but placed her trunk above the seats and sat down. "I'm Hilda. This is Frida and David."

The girl shook Hilda's hand. "I'm Luna Lovegood."

"What're you reading?" Frida asked, gesturing to the magazine.

"The _Quibbler_ ," Luna explained, handing it over for Frida to examine. She opened to the first article and read the headline: _Bigfoot purchases vacation home in Devon! Photos on page 11!_ "It has all the stories no one else will publish."

"Interesting," Frida said, closing the magazine and handing it back. "Why won't anyone else publish them?"

"Because it's all 'fake news' if you'll believe the Prophet," the girl said. "I'm used to it, though. If my dad and I hadn't seen the nargles with our own eyes, we'd think they were imaginary, too."

"What do nargles look like?" David asked.

"Well, they're invisible, so no one knows."

The three children paused to take in the apparent absurdity of this statement. "Well," Hilda said finally. "It's nice to meet you. Are you a first year, too?"

Luna nodded. "I hope to be sorted into Ravenclaw, that's the house my mother was in." She pointed to Twig, snoozing in Hilda's lap. "Is that a deerfox? I've never seen one outside of photographs before. They're supposed to be good at warding off dark creatures."

"I don't know about that," Hilda said, rubbing Twig's back. "He's a good guardian, that's for sure."

The compartment door opened then, revealing Ginny Weasley, huffing. "Can I join you?" she asked. "My brothers are driving me mental."

"Of course," Frida said. "There's two seats left."

"Thanks." Ginny put away her trunk and settled in next to David. "Hello, Luna."

"Hi, Ginny," Luna replied. "The wrackspurts are all over you this morning."

"Really? I hadn't noticed." The redhead glanced over at Hilda rolled her eyes. "Have you seen Ron and Harry? We were separated from them at the platform."

"I can't say we have," Hilda replied. "You're looking for Harry?"

"No," Ginny said, blushing. "I was just worried, is all."

The compartment door opened again. "Have any of you seen Harry Potter and Ron Weasley?" Hermione asked, sticking her head in. The five first years shook their heads. "Merlin, where could they be? I've searched the entire train! If they missed it, they'll be in trouble with McGonagall."

"Well, you can sit with us," Hilda said, gesturing to the empty seat. "I'm sure they're alright. There'd be a protocol for students who miss the train, right?"

"I suppose." Hermione entered and sat down, sighing. "Those boys are nothing but trouble," she said, smiling in spite for her frustration.

"Have you met Luna Lovegood?" Hilda asked.

"Nice to meet you, Luna. Is that the _Quibbler_? Are you really reading that? The _Prophet_ says its full of rubbish."

"My father owns the _Quibbler,_ " Luna replied.

"...Oh. I'm sorry."

"No worries. If you ask me, it's the _Prophet_ that gets everything wrong. That Rita Skeeter is a liar."

They were saved any further disagreement by the arrival of the snack trolley. "Anyone want sweets?" the witch asked?

"Sure!" Hilda said, fishing in her jacket for some coins.

"I don't have any money," Ginny said, blushing again.

"No worries, we'll share."

For the next few hours, the six students ate their sweets and chatted amongst themselves. Hilda found three chocolate frog cards: one Dumbledore, one Godric Gryffindor, and one Newt Scamander. "My grandad knew him," Hilda said, showing Luna the Scamander card.

"Really? I met him with my father at a book signing once," Luna said. "He was very nice; he promised my father he'd add a section on nargles to his next book, but I think he forgot."

"Hilda, I got a card with your grandad on it!" David said, handing it over to Hilda. Hilda took it and read it eagerly:

**Rasmus Dahl:** _**1901-?** _

_Considered one of the preeminent experts on magical creatures, Rasmus Dahl worked closely with fellow researcher Newt Scamander for the collection of specimens in preparation for Scamander's first book_ Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them _. A celebrated writer in his own right, Dahl published dozens of books on the wildlife and mythology of his native Trolheim. His unsolved disappearance in the Northern Wilds of Scandinavia in 1980 has led to endless speculation._

Above the short biography was a moving portrait of a smiling, white-haired man in a leather traveling robe, pockets stuffed with parchment and maps, a mischievous twinkle to his green eyes. The portrait caught Hilda's gaze and gave her a strange look. "May I keep this?" she asked David. "I'll trade you my Dumbledore card."

"Sure."

The compartment door opened. "We're arriving at the station in a half-hour," a red-haired prefect said, peering in. "You'd all better change into your school robes."

"Thanks, Percy," Ginny replied, returning a small black leather journal to her bag. "Shall we all take turns using the compartment to change?"

When it came to Hilda's turn, she opened her trunk and noticed something odd at the top of her folded clothes. It was another traveling trunk the size of a snuff box. "Alfur?" she asked, picking up the trunk.

A sub-compartment in the trunk lid unzipped itself, and a small head emerged. "Hilda! Surprise!"

"What are you doing in my luggage?"

"The elf council asked me to come along with you to Hogwarts, so I can send reports back to them," Alfur replied. "I wanted to surprise you."

"Well, I'm glad to have you with me, Alfur. Now get back in that pouch and don't come out until I've finished changing."

* * *

Hermione took her seat at the Gryffindor table and looked up and down the seats. "Fred, George?" she asked the two identical twins next to her. "Have you seen Ron or Harry?"

"Can't say we have, Hermione," Fred replied.

"We've been too busy—" George continued.

"—Trying to smuggle dung bombs into the Slytherins' luggage."

Hermione rolled her eyes and directed her attention up to the staff table. Professor McGonagall took the lectern and cast a Vox. "Welcome back to Hogwarts, students! Now that we are all gathered, let us bring in our incoming first years. This new batch includes thirty students from Trolheim, so be sure to give them a warm welcome!"

The doors to the Great Hall swung open, and the new students came in. At the lead, a blue-haired girl strode forward, clothes soaked, a beaming smile on her face. Hemione leaned forward and tapped her on the shoulder as she passed. "What happened to you?"

"She fell off the boat," David replied, stopping alongside Hilda.

"The giant squid put me back in!"

Hermione rolled her eyes, "Must happen at least once every year," she muttered before casting a spell to dry the girl's clothes off.

* * *

"A singing hat!" Hilda whispered to David and Frida as the singing died down. "I have so many questions."

"I'm sure he'll let you ask them when it's your turn," Frida replied.

" _Aiken, Frida!_ " McGonagall read out.

"Wish me luck," the girl said, before striding down the aisle and taking a seat on the sorting bench.

The hat barely rested on her head a moment before making its decision. "RAVENCLAW!" The table in blue applauded as Frida smiled and hurried over to join them.

" _Andersen, David_."

"I'm nervous," David whispered.

"Don't be," Hilda said.

"What if it realizes I'm not magical?"

"Come along now, Mr. Andersen," McGonagall said, beckoning the boy forward.

David walked to the sorting bench, knees shaking under his robe, and sat down. The hat fell upon his head. "HUFFLEPUFF!" He gave a sigh of relief as the hall applauded him.

As a few more names were rattled off, Alfur popped his head out from under Hilda's hair and noticed her expression. "What's wrong, Hilda?"

"Frida and David were sorted into different houses," Hilda replied. "I thought we'd be sticking together."

" _Dahl, Hilda!_ "

Hilda gave a start, then looked around the hall. Aside from a few whispers of recognition, the students watched her silently. From the Gryffindor table, Hermione smiled reassuringly and gave her a thumbs up. Taking a deep breath, Hilda made her way to the sorting hat.

 _"My, my,"_ the hat whispered as it slipped down past her ears. _"This is a curious one. So many qualities fighting for dominance. Hmmm, ambitious, I see, and that strange darkness in you. Slytherin would be a good fit. Yet you are also curious and loyal to your friends, so either Hufflepuff or Ravenclaw would suit you just fine."_

 _"But what about my friends?"_ Hilda whispered. _"I can't choose one over the other."_

 _"Hmmm, yes, you're certainly in a pickle there. It's not my job to manage your relationships, however. Yes, I'm starting to see it. So much bravery, stubbornness, a real knack for trouble, and getting out of it. I see, yes. Better be_ GRYFFINDOR!"

The hat was plucked from her head, leaving Hilda blinking in the light of the Great Hall. McGonagall put a hand on her shoulder. "Better join your table, dear," the witch said, smiling. Hilda got up and walked slowly over to the proper table. As she sat down, she craned her head to look for her friends. From the Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff tables, Frida and David waved to her, smiling.

The rest of the sorting passed without any great drama. Luna Lovegood was sorted into Ravenclaw, taking a seat next to Frida. Last to go was Ginny Weasley, who was immediately placed in Gryffindor by the hat. She sat down between Hilda and Hermione, letting go of her held breath. "I was afraid I wouldn't be put in Gryffindor."

"Why?" Hilda asked. "The other houses don't seem so bad."

"My entire family has been in Gryffindor," Ginny explained. "Ron, Fred and George were teasing me that I might be put in Slytherin."

"What's so bad about Slytherin?" Hilda glanced over to the emerald table, spotting Draco Malfoy seated in the center. He glanced over to Gryffindor, as though searching for someone. When his eyes met Hilda's he gave her an almost imperceptible nod.

"Slytherin is notorious for producing dark wizards," Hermione explained. "They're a rotten lot, for the most part, especially Malfoy and his goons. Oh, look! Dumbledore is about to give his welcoming speech."

The headmaster stood up from his chair and came to the lectern, adjusting his half-moon glasses and surveying the assembled students. "Welcome, students. It is my sincere delight to welcome a new generation of witches and wizards to our halls. I have a few small announcements to make before we begin the feast. First, Mr. Filch has given me a twenty-foot long roll of parchment detailing all of the items forbidden from school property. You may find it posted outside of his office. I believe that is all. Now, _Hemlock! Gobble! Vittra! Claptrap!_ "

"What?" Hilda asked.

"You'll get used to it," Hermione explained. "Would you like a pumpkin roll?"

Hilda looked down and gasped at the plates of food that had magically appeared on the table. " _Wow,_ " she whispered as the students around her began to dig in, momentarily forgetting her worries. "Magic is wicked!"


	6. The First Day

As the Gryffindor's made their way up the shifting staircase to their dormitory, Hilda dropped behind to the back of the crowd. "Professor McGonagall?" she asked the Head of House.

"Yes, Miss Dahl, is something troubling you?"

Hilda sighed. "I'm worried about my friends. We were separated into different houses-"

"—And you're afraid that means you'll be forced to compete against them or be pressured not to stay friends with them?" McGonagall finished, arching her brow. "Miss Dahl, though the house rivalries have gotten particularly competitive these last few years, house placement does not determine who you can and cannot socialize with. If your friends care for you as much as you care for them, then there should be no problems there."

"What about what the rest of my house thinks?"

"Miss Dahl—Hilda, if anyone in Gryffindor gives you any trouble over your choice of friends, then you come to me immediately." She stopped. "One of my dearest friends was a Slytherin, did you know that? Back in my day, the animosity between Gryffindor and Lotte's house was quite toxic. But Lotte stuck by me and I stuck by her, and in the end it didn't matter to us what anyone else thought."

"Are you still friends with her?"

McGonagall shook her head, her expression softening. "Well, Lotte died during the First Wizarding War."

Hilda blushed. "I'm sorry, Professor," she said, rubbing her arm.

McGonagall nodded, but she seemed to be a thousand miles away. She shook herself out of the past, her face returning to its gruff demeanor. "You'd better run along to catch up with the others. I have to return to my rooms. Goodnight, Hilda, and I'll see you in class tomorrow." With that, she turned and began to descend the staircase. Hilda watched her go, then turned and hurried towards Gryffindor Tower.

* * *

Hilda slept fitfully, despite the comfort of her warm, soft four-poster bed. Alfur made himself a comfortable nest in a drawer in the adjacent side table. His little snores kept several first-years girls up all night as they looked in vain for the source.

The next morning, Hilda walked down the stairs and into the Great Hall, taking a seat at the Gryffindor table and morosely beginning to butter a piece of toast. She didn't look up when someone slid onto the bench beside her. "Good morning, Hilda. Sleep well?"

Hilda glanced up and broke into a grin. "Frida."

"Hey, you can't sit here!" A third-year Gryffindor said, noticing the Ravenclaw.

"Why not?"

"...Because your table is over _there_?"

Frida noticed Professor Flitwick coming down the center aisle and hailed his attention. "Professor, is there any rule saying we have to sit at our house table for meals?"

"Not at all, Miss Aiken. Although it's not common practice, students are actually encouraged to mingle among each other."

Frida turned and smirked at the third year. "There, there's no problem. Please pass the orange juice."

"Sorry I'm late," David appeared, taking a seat on the other side of Hilda. "I got lost on my way up from the Hufflepuff dormitory. I ended up in the dungeons."

"Spooky," Hilda remarked, crunching on her toast. "Did you see any ghosts?"

"Well, yes, actually."

"Really?" Frida asked.

"They weren't like the ghosts back home," David elaborated. "He was very nice, although he showed me how his head was almost entirely separated from his body, which was sort of scary."

"That's why they call me Nearly-Headless Nick!" An incorporeal figure drifted up through the center of the table, stopping several feet above to look down on the students. Several students cried out in surprise, some ducked under the table in fright. "A rotten nickname, but an apt description, I admit. Mr. Andersen, I see you followed my directions perfectly!"

"Yes, thank you, Sir Nicholas. I'd've been lost for days if you hadn't helped me."

"No trouble at all, young man. Incidentally, there's a spider on your shoulder." He straightened himself up and smiled. "New first years! Look at you, three different houses, and all sitting together. Reminds me of the days before the Great Wizarding War! Well, I must be off. Ta!" With that, he flew away across the hall, passing effortlessly through a solid stone wall on the far side of the room.

"What a nice man," Hilda remarked. "Er, I mean, ghost."

They ate quietly for a few minutes before Harry Potter and Ron Weasley trudged into the hall and collapsed onto the bench across from the three first years. "Hi, Harry, Ron," Hilda said, passing Ron a muffin. "Where were you two yesterday? You weren't on the train, and you missed the feast."

"It's a long, painful story," Harry said, rubbing his side.

"They flew Dad's car into the Whomping Willow." Ginny and Luna had joined them at the table, Luna's presence attracting more gasps of disbelief from the third-year Gryffindor.

Ron snorted pumpkin juice out through his nose. "Thanks, Ginny. Have you been telling the whole school?" he asked, wiping his face with his sleeve.

"It is pretty funny," Hermione said, chuckling for a moment before remembering her role as the voice of reason. "I mean, you could've gotten killed. What made you attempt such a stupid stunt?"

"Someone sealed off the entrance to Platform 9 ¾," Ron explained. "We took my dad's car to try and catch up. By the way, why are there Hufflepuffs and Ravenclaws at the Gryffindor table? Your tables are over there."

Hilda, Frida, David and Luna rolled their eyes and continued eating. "Have you looked over your schedule, Hilda?" Frida asked.

"Yep, I've got it all memorized...

* * *

"First class: Potions," Hilda said, choosing a stool behind one of the lab tables.

"I'm nervous," David said, joining her (Unlike the second years grouped with Slytherin, the first year Gryffindor's had been partnered up with the Hufflepuffs for Potions class). Professor Snape mentioned at orientation that there were accidents in his class."

"I'm sure he was being dramatic," Hilda said, waving it off.

The potion door swung open, letting in Professor Snape, who swept down the center aisle to the front of the class. "Welcome, first years, to potions," he said, turning to face the class. With a wave of his wand, he summoned a stack of papers, which were then distributed across the tables. "You are here to learn the very fine, very precise skill of crafting potions. Properly trained, you will be able to cure common ailments, ensnare your heart's desire, even attain liquid luck. I shall warn you only once: this is a delicate craft. Any mistake could prove…" he fixed his gaze on David. "Unfortunate for those responsible." David gulped and tried to sink under the table.

"Before I begin, some housekeeping. Miss Hilda Dahl has generously accrued thirty demerit points from Gryffindor, an impressive feat, as she achieved this before she even set foot on Hogwarts property. I shall deduct the points from Gryffindor accordingly." Fifteen pairs of eyes narrowed and focused on the blue-haired first year. Hilda smiled sheepishly and waved. Snape smirked before continuing. "Now, on with the lesson: you are to prepare a simple boil treatment salve. Instructions are on the parchments I have handed out. You have an hour and a half-do follow the instructions carefully. I would hate for someone to break Neville Longbottom's record for fastest injury acquired in my class. Ingredients are in the cupboard behind me, take only as much as the recipe calls for: Begin!"

* * *

"Dahl, Andersen, please remain behind," Snape said, rising from his chair. David and Hilda remained seated as the rest of their class filed out of the door. Snape picked up a vial from the pile of submitted potions and brought it over to them. "Look at this vial and tell me what is wrong with it?"

Hilda looked at it carefully. "It's yellow?"

"Indeed, Miss Dahl. Were you to apply this salve to a boil, it would indeed remove the boil, along with any skin it makes contact with." Snape walked over to the contaminant sink and poured the vial into it, where the mixture began to smoke. "I'm afraid you fail the assignment. Fifty points from Gryffindor."

"But professor, we followed the instructions to the letter," Hilda objected.

"Did you?" Snape walked over to their cleaned and emptied cauldron and peered into it. "Whose is this?" David raised his hand. "You left the price sticker affixed to the bottom of the cauldron," the professor said, reaching in and scraping out some remnant of adhesive. "You did indeed follow my instructions, but you failed to properly examine your equipment."

"Is there any way we can make up for this?" David asked, sagging in his chair.

"I'm afraid not. There are no second chances here, Mr. Andersen."

"But that's not fair!" Hilda grumbled.

Snape sighed and stood up. "Do you remember my speech at the beginning of class, Miss Dahl? Potion-making is a delicate art: everything must be done exactly as specified. There is no room for mistakes. Were your potion to be used on a student or anyone else, they would be severely burned. Despite what you may have heard from certain other students, I take the safety of my students very seriously. Though I wish I could eject any incompetent students from my class, I cannot do so until my OWL-level class in the fifth year-Mr. Longbottom can attest to that. To repeat myself, there must be no cutting corners, no mistakes, no oversights. Am I clear?"

"Yes, sir," David and Hilda replied.

"Good. By the way, ten points from Hufflepuff, Mr. Andersen-your Transfiguration class started two minutes ago, and you are late."

"Yes, sir," David muttered, collecting his bag and hurrying out of the door.

"You didn't have to be so mean to him," Hilda said, glaring at Snape as she stuffed her things into her own knapsack.

"Perhaps not, but I have a reputation to upkeep," the professor replied, the trace of a smile crossing over his face. "Run along, Miss Dahl. I'm sure your house would not appreciate any further lost points."

* * *

"What a bully," Hilda grumbled, pushing her kidney pie around her plate.

"He was just trying to teach you a lesson," Frida said, not looking up from her Transfigurations textbook as she spooned tomato soup into her mouth.

"I'm surprised he wasn't worse," Ron noted through a stuffed mouth. He paused to swallow before continuing. "He's a complete prat to our year. Picks on Harry all of the time."

"Why is that?" David asked, turning to Harry.

"He hated my Dad," Harry replied. "So he takes it out on me."

"I'm sure that's not the entire truth," Frida said, finally closing her book. "Things are rarely so black-and-white."

"With Snape, it is," Ron insisted.

Frida rolled her eyes and began to put her book away. "How was Transfiguration?" Hilda asked her.

"Fine. A word of warning: Mrs. McGonagall can turn into a cat. She'll probably appear in front of you and transform-put the fear upon you."

"She must do that every year," Hermione said.

"Thanks for the heads up."

* * *

Sure enough, a skinny tabby sat on McGonagall's desk eyeing the incoming students like a roc over a flock of sheep. Hilda walked up and smiled. "Morning, professor."

The cat's eyes widened, and it gave Hilda a look that said _Don't you dare ruin this for me_. Hilda put a hand to the side of her nose and took her seat.

* * *

"Miss Dahl, why haven't you turned your snail back into a button?" McGonagall walked up the row to Hilda's table and looked down at her work.

"I don't want to," Hilda said, tapping at the snail with her wand.

"Why on earth not?"

"I just created life from nothing, and now I have to reverse it. Aren't I basically killing the snail?"

"Miss Dahl, while I commend your compassion, transfiguration doesn't create life. That snail may look like a snail, but if you were to dissect it, you'd find an empty husk powered by magic. If you were to wait an hour, the snail would turn back into a button on its own."

"How do you know? Have you ever asked the snail if it's alive? When I put my wand in front of its path, it moves around it. Doesn't that mean it can think?"

McGonagall sighed. "Hilda, I assure you, you are not killing the snail by returning it to its original form."

"Promise?"

"I promise."

Hilda looked down at the snail, then waved her wand, watching the creature's features vanish. A small brass button rolled to a stop near her hand. McGonagall patted her on the shoulder. "Very good, Hilda. I'm proud of you. Ten points to Gryffindor; let's see if you can earn back all the points you've lost by the end of the week, shall we?" she asked, winking. Hilda smiled.

* * *

"Are you still thinking about the button?" Frida asked, on their way to the Defense Against the Dark Arts classroom.

"I just feel bad for it," Hilda said.

"Professor McGonagall said it was all right. You have to trust here."

"I guess so," Hilda grumbled.

"How do you think Lockhart's class is going to go?"

"If his book signing was anything to go by, it's going to be all 'Me, Me, Me!'."

Frida stifled a laugh. "I'm sure it's not that bad."

* * *

"Yes, it's me!" Lockhart said, vaulting to the front of the class, arms outstretched. Hilda resisted the urge to slam her head on her desk. "Welcome, students, to Defense Against the Dark Arts. The world is a dangerous place—if you'd read my books, which I'm sure you all have, you'd know. In this class, you must learn to use your wits and your wand to defeat any dark adversary you encounter, man or beast. Fortunately, you have me to guide you along the way! But first, a pop quiz! Just to test that you've done the assigned reading."

Hilda groaned as she read the first few questions. "Good grief."

* * *

Lockhart sat atop his desk and read through the gathered quizzes. "Let's see. Yes, Miss. Jennings, my favorite flavor ice cream is double-fudge swirl, ten points to Ravenclaw. No, Mr. Dodd, my shoe size is not 9 but 7: all the better for my dancing skills. Hmm," he said, coming to the last quiz. "Miss Dahl, I'm afraid you've gotten every question on the quiz wrong. My favorite food is not 'humble pie', and my biggest fan is not 'myself'. Well, better luck next time, I'm afraid."

Professor Lockhart set the paper's down and stood up. "Well, class, for my first lesson I was going to show you all some Cornish pixies that I had brought in, but I'm afraid during my second year class with Gryffindor and Slytherin, there was an, ah… unfortunate jailbreak. As such, I have found an excellent replacement." He reached behind his desk and pulled up a cage covered in a red tablecloth and emitting an oniony smell. "Please turn to page 130 of _Gadding with Ghouls_."

Hilda and the other students obeyed. Hilda read the chapter's title and frowned. "Vittra?"

"That is correct, Miss Dahl!" With a flourish, Lockhart drew away the tablecloth to reveal a short, upset looking creature with a head like a tulip bulb. It rattled the cage bars, wide eyes darting around the room frantically as it whimpered and cried out in a small, high-pitched voice. "Don't come too close, children. While Vittra don't look particularly dangerous, this full-grown specimen here can tear a wizard to bits in the blink of an eye."

"No they can't!" Hilda sprung from her chair. "That's not even a fully grown Vittra, it's only a baby. It's probably terrified after being pulled up from the ground by a strange man."

"Miss Dahl, while I appreciate your concern, I assure you I know what I am talking about. I have tangled with these monsters on many an occasion, and they are anything but harmless. Fortunately, they have one weakness:" He produced his wand with a flourish. "Fire!"

"No!" Hilda ran down the aisle and dove for the cage, right as Lockhart began to cast a fire spell. The flames singed the top of Hilda's beret, but she grabbed the Vittra's cage and somersaulted over the desk, landing on her feet. "You're an idiot!" she shouted, pointing at Lockhart accusingly. "I'm putting this little one back where he belongs!"

"Miss Dahl!"

Before anyone could stop her, she ran from the room, down the Grand Staircase, and out the front door. Looking around, she suddenly realized the folly of what she'd done. "Oh, cruddlesticks," she whispered, using one of David's favorite phrases.

"Hilda!" a deep, familiar voice called out. Hagrid lumbered up the path towards her, followed by a massive bloodhound. "What are you doing out of class?"

"I need to get this Vittra back to its family," Hilda said, holding the cage out in front of her for the half-giant to see.

"Well, look at that. What's that little feller doing so far from my vegetable patch?"

"Lockhart took it. He was about to set it on fire in front of our class!"

"That explains yer smoking hat." Hagrid plucked the beret from Hilda's head and waved it in the air, putting out the slow burn. "What does Lockhart think he's doing, abductin' Vittra? Everyone knows they're only dangerous when one of their own is threatened."

It was then that the two became aware of the sound of dozens of little feet running, growing steadily louder and closer. A battalion of Vittra stormed towards them screaming a war cry, each holding a farm implement before them as a weapon. _**"Revenge!"**_ they screamed, drawing closer and closer.

"Hilda, go back inside. I'll try'n scare them off!" Hagrid said, stepping in between the charging mob and the girl.

Fifty yards from the two, the Vittra stopped. The leader strode forward, face painted like a Highlander. _"Slingers! Fire!"_ A dozen rocks-pebbles, really-flew over the Vittra's heads towards Hilda and Hagrid. Fortunately, their range was off, and the rocks bounced on the ground harmlessly ten feet from them. The Vittra leader harrumphed. _"Archers! At the ready!"_

"Now, now, Chief Clodya," Hagrid began, slowly stepping towards the army. "Let's be reasonable; this is all just a simple misunderstandin'—" a second later, an arrow the size of a popsicle stick embedded itself into the half-giant's right knee. Hagrid glanced down at it, then back up at the Vittra. "Oi! Who did that!"

"On my _signal_ ," the Vittra chief shouted, raising her hand.

"Wait!" Hilda cried, running out from behind Hagrid and towards the mob. She stopped ten feet from the army and held up the cage. "I'm sorry we took your child. It was wrong and stupid. On behalf of the school, I apologize." She set the cage down and unlocked it, then took a step back. The infant Vittra pushed open the door and scrambled across the grass, jumping into the arms of the Vittra chief with a cry of joy. Clodya hugged her child tight, then glared up at Hilda. "Victory! Retreat!" she yelled, and the other Vittra obeyed, running back towards where they had come from.

Hagrid walked up, stopping next to the first-year. "That was a very fine thing you did there, Hilda," he said. He patted her on the back, nearly knocking her over. "I'm mighty proud of you. If Lockhart or any other professor tries to give you trouble for what you did, refer them to me, and I'll set the record straight."

"Thank you, Hagrid."

"Don't mention it. Oh, and Hilda?" the half-giant winked. "Two-hundred points to Gryffindor. Now, if yeh'll excuse me, I have t'see Nurse Pomfrey about an arrow in my knee." He turned and limped away towards the castle.

* * *

"Well, Rubeus has explained to me what happened," McGonagall began, rubbing her temple with her hand. Hilda and the professor were seated in her office, the setting sun throwing its last rays through the window. "I agree with you that Professor Lockhart's actions today were… unwise, he is very upset that you insulted him in front of the entire class."

"I'm sorry his ego took a beating," Hilda said, crossing her arms and leaning back in her chair smugly.

"Do be serious, Miss Dahl. Insulting a professor is not tolerated at Hogwarts. I will not deduct any points for your behavior, but I must appease Professor Lockhart's… ego," McGonagall said, having tried and failed to come up with an appropriate euphemism. "I am assigning you detention with Lockhart this evening. You are to report to his classroom after dinner and follow his instructions."

"Yes, Professor," Hilda said.

"Hilda, you have a big heart, but you must learn to control your mouth. Being truthful is admirable, but, to sound like a Slytherin for a moment, telling the truth at the right time is also a valuable skill."

"Did Lotte teach you that?"

McGonagall's face softened. "As a matter of fact, she did. Run along, now, Miss Dahl."


	7. Tiny Doors and Spiteful Slurs

After dinner Hilda made her way to the Defense Against the Dark Arts classroom. "Harry? What are you doing here?"

"Detention," Harry Potter replied, glancing up from a stack of letters. "From the car?"

"Oh, right."

"You're here about the Vittra, right? Ginny told Ron what happened. It was a good thing you did."

"Ah! Miss Dahl." Gilderoy Lockhart emerged from the back room and smiled at the girl. "Welcome to detention. Despite the unpleasantness of this afternoon, I'm not a grudge-bearing man-that is, if you don't count my disdain for the _Quibbler._ That Xenophilius Lovegood has been spreading nothing but slander regarding my accomplishments. Anyway, I'm willing to let bygones be bygones after you've served your 'sentence', to pardon the term. Now, let's see what we can have you do. Harry here's replying to my fan mail… ah! I know, you can go over to the kettle and steam off the postage stamps for reuse in the reply letters. A knut saved is a knut earned, as the saying goes, though if you could keep this particular habit of mine away from the press I'd be very grateful."

* * *

Hilda tramped up the stairs to Gryffindor Tower, her legs heavy and complaining. "My fingers are all wrinkly," she said, holding her hands out for Harry to see.

"Yeah, my hand is killing me from forging Lockhart's signature a hundred-and-six times."

They passed through the secret door and into the common room. Saying goodnight to Harry, Hilda made her way up to the first year girls' dormitory. She collapsed into her bed, not bothering to get undressed, and was about to shut her eyes when she heard a tapping at the window. Through the glass, a Great Horned Owl peered in, looking as though it had been waiting for quite some time.

"Mum!" Hilda whispered, running to the window and opening it. The owl extended its leg, and Hilda removed the envelope. "Thank you, Friga," she said, ruffling the bird's head feathers. Friga gave a disgruntled hoot before turning and taking off, disappearing silently into the night.

Hilda sat down on the bed and opened the letter:

_Dear Hilda,_

_How was your first day of school? Which house were you sorted into? How are Frida and David?_

_I apologize for the twenty questions, but the Great Raven came by today and wanted to know all about where you were and what you were doing. Tonttu says hello, and asks if there are any Nisse at Hogwarts._

_I received the first royalty check from Gringotts for grandad's writing. I won't be indiscrete, but I nearly had a heart attack. Enclosed is some spending money. I don't know if there's a canteen at Hogwarts but I received an owl post this morning with a catalog from some place called 'Honeydukes'. Apparently it's a sweets shop not too far from your school. Don't fill up too much on candy. We can't have you getting another cavity, although the Grangers were kind enough to offer me a discount if we went to their office the next time we're in London._

_Give my best to Frida and David. Harry, Ron and Hermione too. And the other Weasleys. Gosh, you've certainly made a lot of friends there._

_I'm so proud of you,_

_Mum._

Hilda smiled, then reached over to the side table and grabbed a roll of parchment to reply.

* * *

"Thanks for letting me tag along today, Hilda," Alfur said, his small head poking out from the breast pocket of Hilda's robe.

"No problem, Alfur. I bet you're as excited to see the library as I am."

"Indeed I am. So many new things to learn about. I could fill up dozens of pages of notes for the elves back in the valley."

Hilda walked into the library and up the reference desk. "Excuse me?" she asked.

"The _Field Guide to the Forbidden Forest_ is in aisle six, third shelf from the left, top row," a woman's voice called out from the back room.

"How did you know what I wanted?" Hilda asked.

"Intuition," the voice said as its speaker emerged.

Hilda's eyes went wide. " _You!_ "

The Trolberg Librarian gave the girl a stern look. "I have a name, you know," she said in her slight Norse accent. "Also, you'll want to keep your voice down; Madam Pince says that talking too loud could awaken the books in the Restricted Section. After what happened in 1972, that would be most… _unpleasant_."

"Oh," Hilda said. "I'm sorry. What is your name, anyway?"

"You may call me Miss Kaisa," the librarian replied.

"Nice to formally meet you, Miss Kaisa."

"Likewise, Hilda."

"How do you know my name?"

"I've looked at your library card enough times to remember it," Miss Kaisa replied, smiling.

"Oh," Hilda said, somewhat disappointed. She'd been expecting a more enigmatic answer. "Why are you at Hogwarts?"

"I'm here for an internship," Miss Kaisa replied as she opened the returns bin. "Madam Pince has been looking to retire, and Headmaster Dumbledore is anxious to bring in some Trolheim faculty."

"Well, I'm glad to see you. It's nice to see another familiar face from home."

"Are you homesick, Hilda?" Miss Kaisa asked.

"No, I mean, I miss my mum," Hilda admitted. "I just wish she could see all the amazing things I'm experiencing. As it is, she just has my letters."

"Which I'm sure she appreciates very much. I'm sorry to cut our conversation short, but I have other students to deal with—No, Mr. Finch-Fletchley, the Quidditch training manual is checked out. Mr. Potter was in here before breakfast and grabbed it."

The Hufflepuff halted in his tracks, surprised. "I haven't even told you what I wanted yet."

Hilda followed Miss Kaisa's directions, sure enough finding the book exactly where the librarian had said it would be. She went searching for a good alcove to read in and stumbled upon another first-year Gryffindor. "Oh, hello," she said. "You're Colin Creevey, aren't you?"

"Yep," the boy closed his book ( _Through a Lens, Darkly: A Novice's Guide to Wizard Photography_ ) and shook her hand. "I thought you were brilliant yesterday in Defense Against the Dark Arts Class," he said. He gestured to his camera. "I took some pictures. When I develop them I'll give you a few copies."

"Thanks. Do you mind if I read here?"

"I don't mind," Colin said, making room on the stone window seat. Hilda sat down and began to thumb through her book. After a few minutes, Colin spoke up. "You know Harry Potter, right?"

"Uh, yeah," Hilda replied.

"What's he like? I mean, he always seems bothered by something whenever I try to take his picture. Is he alright?"

"Well, to be honest, Colin, I think he's bothered by you."

"...Oh," Colin appeared crestfallen.

"I think if you calmed down a little with trying to take his picture all of the time, he'd appreciate it and would be much more willing to let you tag along with him."

"I guess I've been hounding him a bit lately," Colin acknowledged, rubbing his arm. "He must think I'm mental."

"I don't think so. Harry's a very nice guy. He just doesn't like the celebrity attention that everyone pays him."

Colin sighed. "I just… I'm a Muggleborn. My dad's a milkman; he thought he'd lost his marbles when the owl flew through our kitchen window with my Hogwarts letter. I was worried so much about sticking out here, I tried to learn as much as I could about the Wizarding World over the summer. That's when I found out about Harry. It seemed like we had so much in common—not the whole losing his parents to the Dark Lord, I wouldn't wish that on anybody—but he didn't know about magic until he got his letter. Yet he's popular, and everyone likes him. I guess I got a little carried away."

Hilda put her hand on Colin's. "Don't worry, Colin. My mum was a Squib, I didn't know about Hogwarts or Diagon Alley or anything like that until this summer. You don't need to try and follow Harry around to find your place here. Just be yourself. If you're a good person, you'll make friends."

Colin smiled. "Thanks, Hilda." he noticed a clock on the wall above the reference desk. "We'd better go, it's almost Charms."

"Okay. Nice to meet you, Colin."

"Nice to meet you too. You're a really special person, you know that?"

"Don't start worshipping me," Hilda said, laughing.

Colin joined in. "I'll try not."

" _Shhhhhhh!_ " Miss Kaisa appeared from behind a bookshelf, arms crossed.

" _Sorry,_ " the two Gryffindor's said in unison.

* * *

"Why are we in the dungeons?" David asked, following Hilda and Frida down the cold stone steps.

"I thought we'd use the free period to explore," Hilda replied. "I heard there are a few old torture chambers down here, with the skeletons still chained to the walls!"

"Don't scare him, Hilda," Frida said scoldingly. "Only thing we'll find down here is Professor Snape."

" _T_ _hat's_ even worse," David replied.

Hilda stopped, causing a small pile-up behind her. "What's this?" Ten yards ahead the corridor terminated at a wooden door. What was curious was that the door was three feet tall with no doorknob, just a brass knocker.

"What do you think is behind there?" Frida asked.

Hilda grinned. "Let's find out."

She strode and knocked twice. The door was opened by a small, wrinkled creature with long ears wearing a pillowcase. "Can Mitzy help you, Miss?" she asked, curtseying respectfully.

Hilda waved. "I'm Hilda, what is this place?"

"This is the Hogwarts kitchens, Miss Hildy. Would you like to come in? Mitzy can make you a pot of tea if you'd like. Perhaps a cocoa?"

"Cocoa sounds nice," Frida said. "It's rather cold down here." Mitzy stepped aside and opened wide the door. The three children entered, ducking low to avoid hitting their heads on the frame.

Inside, the temperature was warm, with a pleasant melange of scents wafting through the air. Large ovens blazed and pots bubbled on stovetops. Throughout the room, two dozen creatures similar to Mitzy were all hard at work, chopping vegetables, seasoning stews, and rolling out dough for tonight's meal: shepherd's pie."

Mitzy left them at a table in the corner and quickly came back with three mugs of piping hot cocoa. "What are you, if I may ask?" Hilda asked, taking on of the mugs with a nod of thanks.

"Mitzy is a house elf," the creature replied.

"Did someone say elf?" Alfur popped his head from Hilda's pocket. He jumped onto the table and held out a hand to the surprised house elf. "On behalf of the elves of Trolheim, it is a pleasure to meet you. I have heard much about your kind from books, but I've never met a house elf in person."

"Mr. Alfur is too kind," Mitzy replied, taking the elf's tiny and giving it a dainty shake. "Trolheim elves is smaller than Mitzy was expecting."

"He's on the tall side for an elf," Frida said, smiling.

"So what do you all do here?" Frida asked, looking around the room again as she sipped her cocoa.

"We serve Hogwarts through the goodness of Headmaster Dumblydore."

"So, you cook the meals?" David asked.

Mitzy nodded. "And clean the dormitories, and wax the hallways, and wash the laundry."

"I never knew you were here," Frida said.

"What, did you think a ghost was cleaning your messy room here, too?" David teased. Frida punched the boy in the arm. "Ow!"

"What I meant was, _Hogwarts: A History_ never mentioned you all were here."

"We are humble folk, houses elves is," Mitzy said, blushing.

"How come you can see Alfur without signing the paperwork?" Hilda asked.

"Elves and house elves are descended from the same ancestors," Alfur said. "We have no need for contracts. We're basically kin."

"Wow, so, the school pays you all to work here?" Frida asked.

Mitzy gave a squeaky laugh. "Oh, no Miss Hildy. House elves are bound to the school. We serve Dumbledore because he is our master."

"You work here for free? Isn't that slavery?"

"Mitzy prefers the term 'contract laborer'. It has a nicer ring to it, don't you agree?"

"You aren't upset about being bound to the school?" David asked.

"House elves are a lot like Nisse back home," Alfur explained. "They and their human masters are co-dependent. The humans give the house elves food and shelter, and the house elves care for the masters. Do you pay Tonttu for his work around the apartment?"

"Well, no."

"You see? Creatures can't be judged by human standards. They have their own perspectives on the world. You said so yourself back in Trolberg."

"You're right, Alfur," Hilda said. She finished her cocoa and shook Mitzy's hand. "It was very nice meeting you, Mitzy."

"Miss Hildy and friends is always welcome in the kitchens," Mitzy replied, beaming. "It is so uncommon to have guests."

As the three children left, Mitzy called to them. "Has Miss Hildy by any chance seen a house elf named Dobby around the school?"

"No, why do you ask?"

"Dobby is not bound to Hogwarts. Dobby is in the service of an unknown master. Dobby's reasons for being here are unknown. Miss Hildy and friends should be careful."

* * *

Hilda awoke the crack of dawn Saturday morning. It was precisely because she had nowhere to go so early that she woke so early: a free day meant a day of exploring the castle grounds, and it was best to make the most of it. She threw on her red sweater, forgoing the school robes in favor of something more comfortable, more familiar. She opened the tower window and gazed out over the rooftops of Hogwarts. In the distance, she could see the Quidditch field, the figures on broomsticks looking like elves riding toothpicks from her far-off vantage point.

She caught flashes of red on the uniforms. She peered under the bed, pushing aside a few dirty shirts to reveal Twig softly snoring. "Wake up, boy!" she said, gently shaking the deerfox. Twig jumped, ears pricked; for a moment he still thought he was chasing a flock of Woffs through a meadow. "Let's go watch the Quidditch practice."

It had been two weeks since she's arrived at Hogwarts and by now she was getting a feel for the castle's little quirks. From the Gryffindor portrait she went left and crept behind a tapestry of Lord Farquaad the Short into a secret passage that, judging from the cobwebs, had not been explored in some time. Hurrying through the darkness, the ground gave way under her, and with a cry she tumbled down a smooth, slippery chute, Twig sliding down howling after her.

A few minutes later, they landed with a thud at the bottom. After the first time Hilda had fallen down the slide she had appropriated a feather cushion from the Gryffindor common room, which did a satisfactory job of breaking her fall afterward. Dusting herself off, she stepped forward, slipping out from behind a suit of armor and out into the hallway outside of McGonagall's classroom.

After that, it was through a window and a short five-foot jump to the soft ground of the herb garden outside of Professor Sprout's personal greenhouse. A Vittra stuck its head out of the loam and appraised Hilda with suspicion before going back to sleep.

Hilda decided to take a detour around the lake. Stopping by the shore, she fished in her bag for a waxpaper parcel and unwrapped a fish she'd gotten from Mitzy in the kitchen. "Here girl!" She called out, flopping the fish around in the shallow water. A second later, a long pink tentacle slithered up from the depths of the lake, grabbed the fish, and pulled it back with a splash, missing Hilda but soaking the unfortunate Twig, who was not amused by his mistress's laughter.

Moving on, they stopped again a half-mile later. Fifty feet from them, the Whomping Willow sat, limbs twitching ominously in the cool morning breeze. Hilda picked up a smooth round pebble by her boot and tossed it to the tree. One of the willow's branches shot out and smacked the rock skyward like a fly cricket ball. It landed far out in the lake. "C'mon," Hilda whispered, watching the ripples in the water slowly fade. A moment later, the rock flew back out of the lake, shot like a cannon to the shore. Hilda clapped her hands. "That squid is getting good at this," she said to Twig, who nodded in agreement.

Finally, they arrived at the Quidditch field a half-hour later than originally planned. Hilda climbed up the Gryffindor bleachers, where she found Ron, Hermione, and Colin Creevey watching acrobatics of the players overhead. "Morning, Hilda," Ron said, waving to the girl as she took a seat near them. "Why are you up to so early?"

"I wanted to see the practice." She put her bag down beside her and opened it, producing a black sketchbook slightly stained from troll spittle. She began to sketch the players, paying particular attention to Harry's diving and darting as he chased the Snitch.

She had just finished sketching Fred Weasley getting knocked off his broom by an errant bludger when Hermione groaned. "What are they doing?" she asked, pointing to the edge of the field.

"We'd better take care of this," Ron said, standing up and fishing his wand from his robe pocket. Hilda noticed that the wand had been sellotaped around the middle. Looking down to where Hermione had been pointing, she spotted a platoon of figures in emerald green strutting across the grass. The Gryffindor players had evidently noticed as well, as they began to descend towards the Slytherins, hopping off their brooms and gathering to form a wall before the advancing snakes.

Hilda and the other observers made it to the bottom just as Oliver Wood pushed his way to the head of the Gryffindor barricade. "What are you doing, Flint?" he demanded, broom held in front of him like a bo staff. "Gryffindors have the field reserved for practice this morning."

Marcus Flint gave a buck-toothed sneer. "We have a note," he said, producing a roll of parchment from his robe pocket. "Go on and read it."

Harry took the parchment and read it aloud. " _Professor Severus Snape requests the Slytherin Quidditch team be given_ _use of the field Saturday morning, so that they may train their new Seeker._ " He crumpled the note up and tossed it back to Flint. "What new seeker?" he asked.

Flint chuckled and stepped aside, revealing Draco Malfoy, flanked on both sides by Crabbe and Goyle. "We have new beaters too, Potter. What do you think?"

" _Malfoy_ ," Harry growled.

"At ease, Potter," the blond Slytherin replied, smirking. "If you keep scowling so hard you'll burst a blood vessel."

"How did you get on the team?" Ron asked.

"Malfoy's dad gave us new brooms," Crabbe said. Malfoy quickly elbowed him in the side. "Oh, I mean, it is unrelated to the fact that Lord Malfoy has given the Slytherin team new brooms." He looked over at Malfoy for confirmation. Malfoy shrugged as if to say close enough.

"Those are Nimbus 2001s!" Katie Bell said, gesturing at Malfoy's gear. "Those aren't even for sale yet!"

"Dad has connections," Malfoy said, buffing out a mark on the handle of his broom. "Unlike Weasley's poor father, he knows the value of friends in high places."

"If you think you're better than us because your precious daddy bought your way onto the team then you're dumber than Crabbe and Goyle," Hermione said.

"What did she say?" Crabbe asked.

Malfoy's face reddened. "If I wanted your opinion, I'd ask for it, you stupid Mudblood."

A chorus of gasps sounded out around Hilda. The girl just frowned. "What's a Mudblood?" she asked, but no one heard her.

"You've gone too far, Malfoy," Ron pulled his wand. "Eat slugs!" A second later, the redhead he was on the ground, belching out gastropods. The Slytherins burst out laughing. Colin Creevey raised his camera, but Hilda shook her head, and he wisely lowered it, smiling apologetically.

The teams stepped aside as Hermione and Harry picked up their fallen friend and half-dragged him away from the field. Wood watched them go, shaking his head as he turned back to the other Gryffindors. "C'mon, team, we can discuss strategy in the locker room, let's leave these children with their shiny new toys."

As the Gryffindor team left, Hilda stomped over to Draco. "That wasn't very nice, Draco," she said, hands on her hips.

"What do I care?" Draco asked, scowling. "Run along with the rest of the cowardly lions, Dahl."

Hilda's fists clenched. _Kill him,_ a voice whispered at the back of her mind. "What is _wrong_ with you? Why are you acting like a spoiled brat?"

"Why are you acting like I'm your friend?"

"Because I thought you were my friend!" Hilda cried out.

Crabbe and Goyle both laughed. "Yeah, right, that's a larf. _A Malfoy and a Mudblood, sitting on a broom, k-i-s-s-i-n-_ "

"That doesn't even rhyme, you idiots!" Malfoy snarled, turning to his cronies. He looked back at Hilda, anger in his eyes. Pulling out his wand, he shot a stinging jinx at the girl, who gave a yelp and grabbed her shoulder. "Get out of here, Hilda."

Hilda's eyes began to water. _Do it,_ the voice urged. Hilda's want started to shake in her robe pocket. Hilda's eyes went dead white. "I thought you were better than your father, but you're just like him," she hissed, before pulling out her wand.

* * *

Hilda woke up groaning. She sat up and looked around, finding herself on an oversized sofa in a cozy stone hut. Something heavy and wet was resting on her feet. Looking down, she saw a massive canine face staring up at her, drool running down its chin onto Hilda's leggings.

"Ew! Fang!" she sat up, then moaned in pain as her back spasmed slightly.

"Oh, Hilda, you're awake!" At the other end of the room, Hagrid set down his mug of tea and stood up. "You had a nasty spill outside."

"I did?" she said, rubbing her head.

"Your knockback jinx backfired," a voice said, followed by the ugly sound of retching. Also at the table with Hagrid was Harry, Hermione and Ron, the latter still puking slugs into a bucket.

"We thought you may have broken it, but it seems like it's alright," Hermione crossed the room and handed Hilda her wand. "I can't imagine why it would disobey you like that."

Hilda looked down at the wand and felt it pulse in her hand. " _I wanted to hurt him,_ " Hilda whispered.

"What?"

"Oh, nothing."

"Would you like to join us, Hilda? I've got tea and rock cakes."

Hilda stood up, shrugging off the soreness on her back, and walked over to the table, sitting as far away from Ron and his bucket as possible. Twig stuck his head out from under the table and barked. "Hiya, boy. Don't worry about me, I'm fine."

"It was your deerfox who found us and brought us to you," Hagrid said. "You were just lying dazed beside the Quidditch pitch, and those Slytherins were practicing up above you as if you were nothing but an oddly-shaped rock."

Hilda sniffled, remembering her fight with Draco. "I thought Draco was my friend," she muttered.

"Malfoy's a git," Ron began, then cut himself short with another round of gagging. "Oh, Merlin, that one was yellow."

"I'd have to agree. He doesn't like friends so much as he likes admirers. If I were you, I'd stop having anything to do with him," Harry advised.

"But he was nice to me in the bookstore," Hilda said. "He didn't report Twig for biting him, and he didn't tell his dad we were spying on him in Borgin and Burkes."

"What on earth were you lot doin' in Borgin and Burkes?" Hagrid asked.

Hilda didn't pay him any attention. "What was that he called Hermione? A Mudblood?"

"Malfoy did what now?" Hagrid's face looked like a hairy beet. "I'll teach him a lesson. Why, I'll get my umbrella and storm drag his hide into Snape's office and give him a good, public thrashing."

"Hagrid, no. Don't get involved," Harry said, grabbing the half-giant's arm. "He's not worth the trouble."

"But what does it mean?" Hilda pressed on.

"It's an awful word," Hermione finally spoke up. "One of the worst words a wizard can use to describe a Muggleborn."

Hilda seemed unconvinced. "I can think of a dozen words worse than that, although my mum would ground me for a month if she caught me using any of them.

"Mudblood is an awful slur, Hilda," Ron said, finally catching a break from the bucket to speak. "Draco's saying that because Hermione's parents weren't wizards, she's worse than dirt in his eyes."

"But my mum is a Muggle," Hilda said, eyes beginning to water again. "I'm a Muggleborn! So is Frida! So are David and Colin. If he hates Hermione, he must hate me and all of them, too."

"Don't let him get to you, Hilda," Harry said. "You're ten times better than Malfoy and his dad put together."

"I'm sorry," Hilda said, wiping an eye with her sleeve. "I just thought he was a better person than to say something like that."

"The Malfoys bred all of the niceness out of their family tree generations ago," Harry replied.

Hilda stood up and walked to the door, picking up her bag along the way. "I'm going to go back to the castle," she said.

"Do you want us to come with you?" Hermione asked, making to stand up.

"No, I… I want to be alone. Come along, Twig."

Hilda waited until the door of Hagrid's hut had latched shut behind her before burying her face in her hands.

* * *

High up in his office, Dumbledore was suddenly alerted by a ringing sound. Setting down the Wizengamot speech he was memorizing, he walked over to his desk and inspected one of the gizmos there, which was glowing a hot white light. "Well, that's interesting."

* * *

**Well, now that we know the Librarian's name, I had to come back and make some changes. I liked the name Runa, but if it is Kaisa, then Kaisa it will be.**


	8. The Voices

The library was nearly empty, save for a few Ravenclaws and Miss Pince leafing through a copy of _Witch Weekly_ behind the reference desk. Hilda had chosen an alcove the farthest from the door and had her wand lying on the study table, inspecting it intently.

_It's just a piece of wood._

Hilda sat up with a gasp, head swiveling around. "Hello?" she asked.

_Hello._

Hilda realized the voice was coming from her head. _"What are you?"_ she whispered.

_A friend._

Hilda put her head down on the desk. "How did you get in my head?"

_I've always been here, waiting, watching from the back of your eyes, sleeping for years as you grew up. Your magical awakening awoke me as well. You have quite the potential for greatness, yet you allow people to push you over, to insult you._

"That's because I'm a good person," Hilda said.

 _Oh, you try to be,_ the voice noted. _But you get tired of it._

"Are you going to be the kind of voice that tells me to do bad things?"

_I don't need to, you'd learn to do it anyway, Hilda. You can do terrible wonders if you only knew how. Your mother knew that. Why was it you grew up in the wilderness and not in the city? Was it for your safety, or Trolberg's?_

"Moving back to the city was mum's idea," Hilda insisted. "You're lying to me."

_The hat was right, there is a darkness in you. I am that darkness._

"You can't define me."

_Don't lie to yourself. I'll help you come round eventually._

"Go away!" Hilda shouted, banging her fist.

"Hilda?" Hilda looked up and saw Frida and David standing over her, concern on their faces. "Are you alright?" Frida asked.

"Y-yes," Hilda stuttered, looking around. "I'm sorry. I thought you were Malfoy."

"You missed dinner, so we came to look for you," David said.

"We heard about your big fight with Draco," Frida continued. "Don't feel bad about what happened, Hilda. Some people are just born bad, and I guess Malfoy is one of them."

"You're wrong," Hilda stood up, eyes cold. "No one is born bad!"

_Keep telling yourself that, my child._

Madam Pince rounded the stacks. "If you insist on shouting, Miss Dahl, then I must ask you to leave the library this instant," she said, scowling.

_Are you going to let her tell you what to do?_

"Please," Hilda groaned. She stood up and ran from the library, leaving her friends and her wand behind.

* * *

"Please let me back in!" Alfur said.

"I can't let you in if I can't see you," the Fat Lady said, trying to find the source of the voice. "It's bad enough that boy in the Invisibility Cloak keeps coming and going at all hours. I can't make exceptions for everybody."

"Who has an Invisibility Cloak?" the elf asked, but the Fat Lady had left the portrait, leaving an empty frame. "Cruddlesticks," Alfur muttered. He stepped to one side of the portrait and sat down against the wall, resting his head in his hands. "I don't have hands," he noted, correcting the narrator. Whistling a tune, he soon grew bored sitting on the cold floor and decided to have a stroll of his surroundings.

He began to descend the grand staircase, gazing while he did at the hundreds of portraits on the walls around him. He became so wrapped up in his sightseeing that he forgot about the trick step. With a squeak, he tumbled through the air, plummeting five stories before something soft broke his fall.

Percy Weasley broke off mid-sentence from the conversation he'd been having. "That's funny," he said, taking off his hat and inspecting it.

"What's funny?" the Hufflepuff prefect he'd been talking to asked.

"I could have sworn something landed on my hat." He shrugged and put it back on. "Oh, well. Say, the trip to Honeydukes is coming up, Audrey. I was wondering…"

The girl winced. "Oh, sorry, Perce, I have to wash my owl that day."

"...A simple no would have sufficed."

As the two prefects walked away, Alfur picked himself up from the floor and rubbed his head, groaning. He looked up at the spot he'd fallen from. "Oh, crumbs, it'll take me forever to get back up there."

He sat down again, wondering how to proceed. In the end he decided to kill some time by starting a report for the elves detailing the hazards of placing invisible gaps in magical staircases. Whose idea was that in the first place? Clearly they didn't account for the potential of personal injury lawsuits.

After a few minutes, he became aware of a voice mumbling from not too far away. " _Harry Potter is in danger at Hogwarts,_ " the voice repeated to itself, over and over. " _Oh, why won't Harry Potter listen to Dobby?_ "

Alfur traced the source to a tapestry of Mildred Hubble the Magnificent and pulled it aside, revealing a shivering house elf clad in a particularly unattractive tea cozy. "Hello," Alfur said. The house elf leapt into the air with a shriek, glancing around frantically. "Down here."

The elf looked down, its saucer-sized eyes widening as it caught sight of Alfur. "Who are you?" it asked.

"I'm Alfur. You must be Dobby. The house elves in the kitchen mentioned you a while back."

"Dobby is pleased to meet Mr. Alfur," Dobby replied. "But Dobby must be going now."

"What was that you were saying about Harry Potter?"

The elf's eye went wide, and before Alfur could stop him he began to slam his head against the stone wall. "Bad Dobby!" he wailed.

"Stop! Stop!" Alfur pleaded. "Don't hit yourself, it's alright."

"Mr. Alfur doesn't understand," Dobby said, lowering his voice and scanning the nearby area. "Dobby is not supposed to be here. No one is supposed to know that Dobby is here."

"Well, forgive me for saying this, but you're not doing a very good job of it. What are you trying to warn Harry about?"

"Dobby can't tell."

"Well, you said he's in danger. If anyone else in the castle is in danger, then shouldn't you warn me as well?"

Dobby thought for a moment, then nodded. "Dobby sees your reasoning. Very well, there is something evil in Hogwarts. Dobby hears it in the halls at night. Horrible things are at work. People want Harry Potter to suffer. No one is safe."

"How do you know all of this?" Alfur asked.

"Dobby cannot say."

"You can tell me," Alfur said. He held up his arms as Dobby grabbed a mace from a nearby suit of armor and prepared to strike himself with it. "Or, you know, you don't have to—please put the weapon down."

Dobby set down the weapon and began to weep. "Dobby has tried everything to keep Harry Potter away, but Harry Potter will not listen!"

"If Hogwarts is in as great a danger as you claim, you should warn the Headmaster as soon as possible," Alfur pointed out.

"Dobby cannot!" the house elf said. "Dobby is breaking the rules as it is." The house elf's large ears perked up. " _She is coming!_ " Dobby said, eyes widening in fright. "Dobby must go. Run, Mr. Alfy!"

"Wait, before you go, could you help me get back to the Gryffindor—" but the house elf vanished with the crack of a whip. "—Tower? Oh, blast."

He turned and froze at the sight of a familiar creature eying his with its large, yellow eyes, whiskers twitching. "Oh, hello!" Alfur said. "You're like one of those cats that tried to eat me in Trolberg." A second later, realization reared its ugly head. " _Oh no,_ " he said.

Mrs. Norris advanced slowly towards the elf, crouching low on her haunches. "Nice kitty," Alfur said, slowly taking a step back. As the cat finally sprung, he moved, scampering across the hall and into a corridor, his scream trailing behind him.

 _This beats a mouse any day_ , Mrs. Norris thought, before dashing after her newfound prey.

* * *

_All this running away is terribly unflattering for a future lady of darkness._

"Shutupshutupshutup!" Hilda said, striding quickly away from the library.

_-And all this talking to yourself will make people think you're mad. Which, of course, you are._

"I'm not mad," Hilda growled.

_She says to the voice in her head._

"AAAARGH!" Hilda stopped in the deserted corridor and leaned her head against the wall. "Maybe I am mad."

_That's the spirit._

"Look, if you're going to keep talking to me non-stop, I swear I'll go see a psychiatrist."

The voice gasped, showing a hint of emotion for the first time. _You wouldn't dare!_

"Try me!"

_...Alright, look. This year is going to be hard enough for both of us if we don't find some way of coexisting. I am willing to make concessions if you agree to some concessions in turn._

"Well, you can stop with that stupid hissing," Hilda snarled. "It's driving me up the wall."

_That's not my doing._

"What are you—" Hilda froze as she heard the noise again. A second later, something thudded against the wall, a foot to her left. Leaping back, she watched, horrified, as the wall began to bulge, mortar popping off in chunks. Through the gaps, water seeped onto the floor, forming a puddle that collected around Hilda's feet.

 _Alright, this is interesting,_ the voice noted, _and not in the good way, like a public hanging._

* * *

_"Hilda!"_

Alfur dove out of the way of Mrs. Norris's paw, cartwheeling back to his feet and resuming his frantic escape. "Hilda! Help!"

He was getting tired. "Curses!" he whined. "I'm a bureaucrat, not a track runner!"

At the next corner, his left foot hit a patch of wet flood and slid out from him. With a shout of surprise, he tumbled across the corridor, smacking into the opposite wall with a muffled _oomph_.

For a few moments, he lay dazed, before a gust of hot breath blew his hat loose from his head. Opening his eyes, he waited for his vision to clear. When it did, he wished he hadn't. Mrs. Norris's face loomed over him. She licked her lips and purred. "Oh, good gravy," Alfur said.

"Mrs. Norris!" The cat turned her head to see who was speaking, then took off, disappearing around a corner. Harry Potter walked up to where she had been standing, pausing to examine the puddle that had formed by the wall. He then stopped, reached down, and picked up what upon closer inspection was a tiny red hat.

"Harry!" the boy glanced around, confused. He then looked down and noticed tiny wet footprints coming towards him. "Am I glad to see you!"

"I'm sorry, who am I talking to?" Harry asked.

"Oh, apologies. I'm Alfur, Hilda's elf friend. We haven't been properly introduced."

"Why can't I see you?"

"You haven't signed the paperwork."

"Ah, I see," Harry said. He didn't, both figuratively and literally. "What are you doing out here?"

"I got locked out of Gryffindor Tower, and that awful cat tried to eat me."

"Yeah, that Mrs. Norris is a pest," Harry agreed. "We'd better go before she comes back. Want me to carry you?"

"Please, my little legs are starting to get sore." Harry kneeled down into the puddle and held out his hand, surprised to feel a small weight step aboard. "Have you seen Hilda at all today?" the elf asked.

"I was about to start looking for her," Harry replied, starting to walk down the corridor. "She got into a fight this morning with Malfoy at the Quidditch Pitch."

"Is she all right?"

"She was very upset," Harry admitted. He splashed through another puddle and stopped, giving a huff of irritation. "My trainers are soaked. Why are the floors so wet?" he asked. Before Alfur could reply, Harry heard the voice.

_Come.. come to me… let me rip you… let me tear you… let me kill you._

"Alfur," Harry said, wavering in place for a second, his free hand patting down his robe for his wand. "Did you hear that?"

"Yes. Sounds like a steam pipe's sprung a leak."

"No, I'm talking about the voice."

"What voice?"

Harry paused listening again. "It's gone."

"I honestly have no idea what you're talking about?"

"You didn't hear someone whispering about killing and tearing?"

Before Alfur could respond, a high-pitched scream echoed through the halls. Two heads turned in unison. _"Hilda!"_ A second later, another, lower scream joined the first. _"...Malfoy?"_

* * *

Hilda's legs burned from the exertion, her muscles begging for her to slow down, but she ignored them. If she slowed down, that… _thing_ in the walls would get her. In spite of her apprehension, she turned her head to look behind her. The bulge in the corridor wall was following and getting closer. "Any ideas?" she asked.

_Yes, run faster._

"You are no help at all!" she shouted. She turned a corner too fast, sideswiping a suit of armor and knocking it to the floor with a loud crash of plate metal. "What is that thing?"

_If I knew, I would still advise we keep running away from it._

Someone stepped into view farther down the hall. Hilda slowed down, then realized it was Malfoy. "Oh, great. I'm going to die, and Draco Malfoy is going to have the pleasure of witnessing it."

"Hilda, what on earth were you playing at on the pitch?" Draco shouted, stepping in Hilda's way. Hilda sidestepped the Slytherin and dashed on. "Hey! I'm talking to you!" he shouted, anger rising. "Don't run away from me while I'm talking!"

 _"Draco! Behind you!"_ Draco turned back to look at where Hilda had come from. His eyes widened at the sight of the bulging wall bearing down on him.

A minute later, Draco had caught up with Hilda. "What is that?" he shouted, resisting the urge to look back.

"Less questions, more running!"

The pursuer had by this point caught up with the two students. To Draco and Hilda's horror it swiftly passed them and vanished around a bend in the corridor twenty ten yards ahead. Hilda skidded to a halt and grabbed Draco by the neck of his robe, causing him to gag and fall flat on his back. "What are you doing?" Draco asked, grabbing his sore neck and staring up at Hilda in disbelief.

"Be quiet!" Hilda said. Draco reluctantly obeyed, and together they watched as the creature grew farther and farther away. Hilda breathed a sigh of relief. "It's gone."

"No, listen! It's coming back!" Standing slowly, Draco drew his wand, motioning to Hilda to do the same.

" _I don't have my wand,_ " Hilda hissed.

Malfoy groaned. " _Then take cover!_ " He whispered as the footsteps grew louder. He counted to three in his head. He had to time it just right. Hilda crouched behind a nearby concrete urn and waited.

On three, a dark blur of a form rounded the corner, _"Stupify!"_ Draco shouted.

 _"Stupify!"_ the blur replied in turn.

The two stunning spells zoomed past one another, striking their targets in the chests and throwing themselves to the ground hard enough to drive the wind from their stomachs. around the corner. Startled, Hilda stepped out from behind her cover, watching Draco and Harry as flopped around in the flooded corridor like fish out of water, gasping for air. "Oops," she said.

Alfur, who had been thrown clear of the spell, sat up and coughed a lungful of water from his mouth. "Well, at least we found Hilda in one piece," he wheezed.

Hilda smacked herself in the forehead and moaned. "If someone were to find us right now, there'd be a lot of questions I'd need to answer."

Argus Filch took that moment to round the corner, Mrs. Norris following at his heels. "Then start answering, _Ickle Firstie_ ," he said, grinning toothily at the girl.

 _I think I'll just duck out for a moment,_ the voice said. _Have fun._

* * *

"Three students out past curfew," Filch said. "A duel in the corridors, a veritable river running through the second floor." The caretaker gave a sinister smile and laughed. "You three are in for a world of pain when Dumbledore hears about this."

"Mr. Filch, if we could just explain," Hilda began.

"Oh, by all means, I'd love to hear the story again about the monster in the walls," Filch cackled. "No one knows this school more than me, Miss Dahl. There's nothing behind those stones but pipes and mice. If there were some beast lurking back there, I'd know about it."

"Then how do you explain the voice?" Harry asked.

"What voice?"

Harry groaned. "Did no one hear the voice but me?"

"Unlike you, Potter," Draco growled. "Dahl and I have managed to keep all of our marbles together."

Hilda decided not to mention the fact that while she had been hearing _a_ voice, it was probably completely unrelated to the situation at present. She just sat still in her chair and tried not to look at Malfoy.

It was just then that a strange white mist entered the room, materializing into a beautiful fluorescent cat. " _Mr. Filch,_ " the cat said in McGonagall's voice. " _Students have complained that some of the hallways on the second floor are flooded. If you would kindly sort it out before someone slips and hurts themselves, Dumbledore would most appreciate it._ " A second later, the ghostly cat dissipated.

Filch muttered something under his breath, then went for his mop. "You lot wait right here. Anyone tries to leave, and I'll temporarily forget the ban on corporal punishment."

The second Filch left, Malfoy jumped up and walked around to the caretaker's desk. "What are you doing?" Harry said, glancing back to the door.

"Filch confiscated some items from me earlier this year," Malfoy replied, trying several of the drawers. "Now's as good a time as any to get them back."

"Malfoy, don't. We're in enough trouble as it is," Hilda hissed.

Draco ignored her and opened the top left drawer. His brow furrowed. "What's this?"

In spite of themselves, Harry and Hilda stood up and went to see what Malfoy was referring to. Harry pulled a folded parchment out and read the title head aloud. " _Kwikspell?_ What on earth is that?"

"It's a postal course for learning magic," Malfoy explained. "It's mostly a scam. The only people who buy into it are squibs."

"So why would Filch have this in his desk? Do you think it was confiscated?"

"No," Hilda pointed to the addressee of the parchment. "It has his name on it."

"Filch is a squib?" Malfoy asked. He snickered. "That explains so much."

"What's wrong with being a squib, Malfoy?" Harry asked.

"Please, they're the embarrassments of the wizarding world. I've known wizards who've disowned their children for being born squibs." Malfoy began to refold the parchment. "The Slytherin's will flip when I tell them."

"You're not telling them about this!" Hilda said, snatching the parchment from the boy. "You'll humiliate him in front of the entire school!"

"So? Everyone already hates him."

"It's wrong!"

Draco gave Hilda a pointed look. "You're not in the position at the moment to teach me morals, Hilda."

It was then that Filch returned to his office. "Forgot the bloody sponge," he muttered. Upon sighting the students, he froze, eyes widening. "What are you lot doing!" he yelled. Striding forward, he snatched the parchment from Hilda's hands and glanced at it, flinching. After a few moments of shock, he fixed his eyes back to the students. " _Get. Out. Now._ " When the students didn't move fast enough, he slammed the handle of the mop down on the desk. "GET OUT!" he screeched.

The three took off for the door, Malfoy splitting from the Harry and Hilda to return to the Slytherin dormitory. Harry and Hilda rounded a corner before stopping to take a breath. Harry straightened up and looked at Hilda. "What was Malfoy talking about in there?" he asked.

Hilda stuttered for a moment, then ran. Harry watched her go. "Alfur, do you have any idea what he was talking about?" he asked, glancing to his left shoulder.

The elf gave a shrug, then realized that Harry was unable to see the gesture. "No, not a clue."

* * *

A month after the events in the second-floor corridor, and Hilda was still brooding. Sure, the voice in her head hadn't spoken up since that night, but she could feel its presence loitering at margins of her thoughts, observing silently. Despite their best efforts, neither, Frida and David or Alfur could rouse her from her funk. The professors had also noticed her uncharacteristic mood shift, to the concern of all but Snape, who was enjoying the respite from the girl's endless questions and interruptions in his class. He was so relaxed, he'd even let up on Harry to some degree, though he still deducted house points, although at a less steady frequency.

The week of Halloween rolled around. Sunday found Hilda hiding in the library, Twig at her side. A light rain was tapping on the windows, and every so often an occasional gust of autumn wind rattled the panes. Hilda gazed through the window with a thousand-yard stare.

"Sickle for your thoughts?"

Hilda turned to see Miss Kaisa behind her, leaning against a shelf. "It's nothing," Hilda answered.

The librarian crossed her arms and gave the girl an incredulous look."I doubt that. I can read you like an open book if you'll pardon the expression. Spill."

Hilda sighed. "I don't want to talk about it."

"No one ever does," Miss Kaisa replied. "But it's good to talk about your troubles. It's unhealthy to bottle it all in." She thought for a moment. "It's about Mr. Malfoy, isn't it?"

"How did you know?" Hilda asked, gobsmacked. Miss Kaisa gave the girl a cryptic smile. Hilda put her chin down onto the table. "We had a fight, and I almost did something terrible to him. I feel awful about it, but he insulted a friend about it. Then, he insulted Mr. Filch for being a squib, and my mum is a squib. I don't know what to do. I thought he was my friend, but now I don't know what to think."

"You should talk to him about it."

"Even if I wasn't afraid to do so, he's been avoiding me like the plague."

"He's in the library, you know," Miss Kaisa said, gesturing over the stacks. "He's studying in the north alcove."

"Are his awful friends with him?" Hilda asked.

"Are you referring to Messrs Crabbe and Goyle? I'm sure they'd never be caught dead in a library."

Hilda smiled at the joke. "I don't know if I have the nerve to confront him."

Miss Kaisa nodded in understanding, then cupped her hands over her mouth. "Mr. Malfoy!" she called, eliciting a round of angry shushes from several Ravenclaws two tables over. A moment later, Mr. Malfoy appeared, stopping as he spotted Hilda. "Mr. Malfoy, Miss Dahl has something she would like to discuss with you." Hilda and Draco both looked at each other, then at the librarian, mortified. Miss Kaisa smiled. "I'll leave you two to it," she said before vanishing.

Hilda smiled sheepishly. "Hi." Draco grimaced, then made to walk away. "Please, can we talk?" Hilda asked, stopping him. Draco turned back and sighed, but took a seat at the table opposite her. Hilda fiddled with her thumbs for a few moments before beginning. "I need to talk to you about the day of the Quidditch practice."

"Me too," Draco said. Hilda waited for him to continue, but he seemed nervous to continue. He finally forced it out. "I'm sorry."

"For what, and why?"

"I'm sorry I told you we weren't friends. I _had_ to do it, though."

"What on earth does that mean?"

Draco rubbed the back of his head and broke eye contact. "The Malfoys have a reputation to keep up— _I_ have a reputation to keep up."

"What? Snakes and Lions can't be friends?"

Draco nodded. "It's a matter of house unity. Gryffindors and Slytherins have always been rivals; it would be a betrayal of sorts to break that tradition."

"Why did you call Hermione a Mudblood?"

Malfoy shrugged "Because she's a Mudblood," Draco.

"And you're a prat, but you don't hear me calling you that to your face."

"Look, I'm not going to try and explain the Pureblood politics to you, because you're just going to fight me on it like a true Gryffindor."

"Why would you use such a crude word on anyone?"

"Why are you offended? Your grandad was one of the most famous Purebloods of his era."

"I'm not personally insulted by that—you insulted Filch for being a squib, too," Hilda said.

"So?"

"My mum is a squib," Hilda replied. "I never met my father. What if he was a Muggle? Would you throw me to the curb now?

"Don't be like that. I said I was sorry."

Hilda wasn't satisfied. "If you were sorry, you'd apologize to Hermione."

"I can't do that."

"Why not?"

"Because that's not how it's done!" Malfoy's temper was rising.

"Why? Are you afraid of disappointing your father?"

"Don't talk to me about my father!" Malfoy said, banging on the table. "Everything I know I learned from my father."

"But you're not your father!" Hilda replied angrily. "You don't have to be."

Draco stiffened. "You don't know my father," he said slowly, "And you don't know me. You're new to this world, Hilda, in time you'll learn that this is how things are, how they've always been, and how they always will be."

_You shouldn't take that from him. He knows nothing, he IS nothing. A little cruciatus would cure him of that delusion._

"STOP!" Hilda stood up, pushing her chair back with a shriek of wood on stone. "You can take your apology and throw it out the window. I wish I'd never spoken to you in that bookshop," she said before storming away. Twig raised his hackles and growled at the Slytherin before following her.

"Yeah, me too," Draco said to himself.

Miss Kaisa appeared from around the corner of a shelf, her arms crossed. "Good job, Mr. Malfoy." Draco stood up and pushed past her without acknowledging her presence. "Okay, you are just batting a Century today, aren't you?"


	9. The Writing on the Wall

Hilda was in no better mood the next day. As she left the Great Hall after breakfast she ran into Sir Nicholas by the staircase. "Miss Dahl, are you alright?" the ghost asked, floating down to be eye-level with the young Gryffindor. As he was a few heads taller than Hilda (no pun intended), it meant sinking through the floor up to his knees.

"I'm fine, Sir Nicholas," Hilda lied. "I'm just going through a rough time."

"Well, I do hope you feel better soon," Sir Nicholas replied. "You're looking gloomier than the Grey Lady on her deathday."

"Deathday?" Hilda asked, her curiosity momentarily lifting her from the cloud of her depression. "What's that?"

"It's the day of one's death. We ghosts tend to celebrate it in lieu of our birthdays, as once you've kicked the proverbial bucket, it takes on a great deal more significance."

"So, what do you do to celebrate?"

Sir Nicholas beamed. "If you'd like, you can see for yourself. My deathday happens to be this All Hallow's Eve. It's a rather big one, the _Big Five-Oh-Oh_. Some friends and I are going to have a little party down in the school dungeons during the feast. You're welcome to attend."

Hilda smiled. "That sounds very interesting, Sir Nicholas. Thank you."

"No trouble at all, my girl. Do bring friends if you wish—I just invited Mr. Potter, Mr. Weasley and Miss Granger as well, so the more the merrier. Well, I must be off: I have to discuss catering with the Fat Friar. Ta!" With that, he sunk through the floor, tipping his head in farewell.

* * *

The night of the Halloween feast, Frida and David cornered Hilda outside of the Gryffindor dormitory.

"Hilda, this is getting absurd," Frida said, putting herself between Hilda and the portrait. "You need to stop hiding away from everyone—it's not healthy."

"We miss hanging out with you," David said. "Also, Frida's gone a bit mental with exam preparations, and I need someone to share her attention."

"Don't be melodramatic, David," Frida said, scowling.

"She's made _schedules_ and _study guides_. Look at this," David pulled a massive stack of parchments from his school bag. "This is just for Potions, and some of these questions cover material we don't learn until the second year!"

"You'll thank me in May, David, so stop complaining. Anyway, I've penciled in this night as an official study break." Frida grabbed Hilda by the hand and started marching her down the staircase. "Sir Nicholas told us about the party. You are attending it with us and you will enjoy yourself and cheer up-no buts!"

"Wait, can I at least get Alfur?" Hilda asked, struggling to get free.

"Fine, but we're coming into your dormitory with you, in case you try to lock us out."

"Like I'd do that."

_Liar._

* * *

Hilda was glad she'd chosen to wear her customary sweater and scarf to the party. The dungeon Sir Nicholas had chosen for the night's 'festivities' were damp and clammy, and the cold emanating from the many ghosts in attendance dropped the temperature so low that drops of water falling off the ceiling turned into icicles mid-fall.

"I'll admit, I was interested when you first told me," Alfur said between uncontrollable shivers. "But being down here, I'm starting to have second thoughts."

" _Too late now,_ " Hilda whispered.

"This is not what I imagined it would be like," David said, teeth chattering like castanets.

"It's a party for ghosts, David," Frida replied, rolling her eyes. "What did you expect?"

"Miss Dahl and friends! So glad you could make it!" Sir Nicholas drifted over to the three first-years, beaming "Quite the turnout, eh? What do you think so far."

"We love the…atmosphere," Hilda said hurriedly. "It's very…spine-tingling."

"And bone-chilling!" David added.

"Excellent, I must give my compliments to the Bloody Baron during my speech. He was trying to go for a 'haunted abattoir' aesthetic."

"He pulled it off," David said, breath crystallizing as he exhaled. "It's terrible."

"Thank you, Mr. Andersen. That's high praise."

Hilda scanned the room and caught sight of Harry, Ron and Hermione through the transparent guests. They were standing over by the buffet, looking just as uncomfortable as Hilda-perhaps even more so." Hilda dragged David and Frida across the room and greeted them.

"Blimey, you got roped into this too?" Ron asked. "To think, upstairs there's all the food you can eat, while down here we just have this spoiled birthday cake."

"I think it's pretty cool," Hilda admitted. "I've never seen so many ghosts in one place before."

"Well, it's colder than a haunted abattoir down here," Hermione remarked, rubbing her arms.

"Sir Nicholas will be pleased to hear that," Frida said, smiling.

"What's that little clicking sound coming from your shoulder?" Ron asked.

"That's Alfur," Harry answered. "Hilda's invisible elf friend. Nice sweater, Alfur."

Alfur stopped his teeth from chattering long enough to reply. "Thanks, it's cat wool."

"...Oh."

Ron looked over at Harry in surprise. "You can see him?" Ron asked.

"Yeah, I signed the paperwork."

"What paperwork?" Hermione asked.

Alfur sighed. "I'll draft up two extra contracts for you to sign tomorrow."

As Ron and Hermione began to question Alfur on elf life and culture, Hilda leaned in close to Harry's ear. " _Have you heard the voice again?_ "

Harry nodded, his demeanor turning even more uneasy. "Twice, but always from a distance. Have you spoken to Malfoy yet?"

Hilda was about to attempt to dodge the question when the appearance of a half-dozen ghostly riders on horseback made it unnecessary. The riders formed a circle, riding around the walls, whooping and hollering. Hilda noticed that all of the riders were decapitated, their laughing heads cradled under their arms.

"Oh, dear," the Fat Friar floated over to the figuratively 'warm' guests. "Who invited the Headless Hunt?"

"Nick sure didn't," the Bloody Baron remarked, his customary scowl deeper than usual. "He despises them."

"Why's that?" Hilda asked.

"The Headless Hunt is a very exclusive group to gain membership to, Miss Dahl," the Fat Friar explained. "You have to have been decapitated and an excellent huntsman to be accepted. Sir Nicholas is one-and-seven-eighths of those things, unfortunately, so they've consistently denied him a spot. Worse, they won't stop rubbing it in, which is just not sporting, ironically."

"Patrick!" If Sir Nicholas was still corporeal, he would have stomped across the room towards the lead horseman. "What in Merlin's name are you doing here?"

"First off, it's _Sir_ Patrick," the headless ghost said, dismounting from his mare and casually drifting over to Sir Nicholas, "I heard there was a party, and thought it could use the Hunt's attendance. Let's face it, before I got here, this soiree looked positively..." he paused, reaching over with his free hand to stroke his Van Dyke beard. "... _dead_."

"You're not welcome, Sir Patrick."

"Oh, come now, Nearly-Nicked, don't be so sore. As we have said before, a half-inch of skin is all that prevents us from accepting you into our organization. I'm sorry for the trouble, but I don't make the rules."

"Yes, you do," Sir Nicholas replied, grinding his teeth. "You founded the club. You made the rules."

"And it would hardly do to change the rules after five-hundred years of tradition. By the way, I brought you something," Sir Patrick opened a flap on his horse's saddle and removed a small fish knife. "Here, I know you can't interact with objects, but maybe through sheer force of will you can finish the job good ole' Queen Bess started."

"Hey!" Hilda stormed through the crowd, resisting the urge to gasp as she passed through several ghosts too slow to clear a path. "Sir Nicholas said you aren't wanted. Why don't you stop ruining his party and leave?"

Sir Patrick laughed. "Well well, girly, such fire. What could you possibly do to convince me to leave?"

Hilda grinned. "I could challenge you to a wrestling match."

Sir Patrick was so surprised his body lost grip on his head. "Ow!" Sir Patrick cried, skull bouncing across the floor to rest at Hilda's feet. "A wrestling match, you say? Trolheim rules, I imagine? This should be quite entertaining. Okay, I'll bite. If you and your two tag-ins defeat me, I and my associates will take our leave. If we win…"

"You'll take our souls?" David asked nervously.

Sir Patrick gave the Hufflepuff a confused look. "Heavens, no. That would be terrible. I was going to say that if I win, you leave."

"Oh, fine. Deal."

"Right, we'll start just as soon as my idiot body locates my head. _Oi! Over here! No, you're going the wrong bloody way! Follow my voice!_ Oh, and he just walked through the wall." Sir Patrick rolled his eyes and looked back to Hilda. "You know, Sir Nicholas can moan all he wants about being nearly-headless, but the full experience is no bed of roses."

"Hilda, do you think we have a chance?" Frida asked.

Hilda nodded. "We've done it before."

"And lost," David pointed out.

"You've wrestled a ghost before?" Harry asked, eyes wide.

"It's no big deal," Hilda waved it off. "We were trying to get a lost book back. We'll win, Frida. I've been practicing."

"With who?" Hermione asked.

"Peeves," Hilda replied. "I've beaten him the last six times in a row."

"That explains why he hasn't been tormenting us lately," Frida mused.

"I think he's too embarrassed to show his face."

* * *

"How could we lose?" David asked as the six students trudged up the dungeon steps.

"Well, you did try and put Sir Patrick in a headlock," Ron said.

"A solid tactic."

"Not if your opponent has no head," Alfur pointed out.

"Fair point. Hilda, are you disappointed?"

Hilda laughed. "Disappointed? That was the most fun I've had in weeks."

Frida smiled. "I'm glad to see you're acting like yourself again."

Hilda was about to reply when she saw Harry stop dead in his tracks, eyes wide. "What's wrong?" she asked. Then she heard the hissing.

As the six students watched open-mouthed, the wall opposite them bulged, the form behind it moving past them, the wall undulating like a snake with it. The bulge continued down the corridor, rounding a corner at the end.

"Harry," Hermione began, ending the long silence, "What was that?"

"I don't know, but did you hear what it said?" Harry asked. The other students (and Alfur) shook their heads. "It's _hunting._ "

A second later a screeching yowl echoed through the castle. David nearly fainted in fright, Frida managing to catch him as he went into a swoon. While the rest of the group were frozen, Hilda dashed down the hall towards the source of the scream. "Hilda! Wait!" Harry shouted before taking off after her.

 _That was that custodian's awful cat_ , the Voice said as Hilda rounded a corner.

"Not you again," Hilda muttered under her breath.

"What?" Alfur asked, hanging on tight to Hilda's scarf as she cleared a fallen statue.

"N-nothing," Hilda replied.

 _I don't understand what we're doing,_ the Voice continued. _That cat is at this moment probably being skinned alive, and yet we're heading towards it and certain doom. Why?_

 _We're not going to let someone die just because we don't like them_ , Hilda thought back.

_Is that so? What about swatting flies? We don't like them, so we kill them. I used that same line of reasoning on humans, once upon a time._

Hilda was about to reply but, upon turning the corner, the next sound to come from her mouth was a scream.

A minute later, Harry caught up. "Are you alright?" he asked, looking first at Hilda, then to the scene before them. "Oh, Merlin."

It was Mrs. Norris. The cat appeared to be frozen stiff as a board and was hanging by a rope around its tail to one of the torch sconces on the wall. Its lifeless eyes gazed at Harry and Hilda with a look of animal terror.

"What...what happened?" Harry finally asked.

"I don't know," Hilda replied. "But...the writing."

She pointed past the cat to the wall beyond. Harry splashed through the water, reading the note scrawled in what appeared to be blood.

_**The Chamber of Secrets has been opened. Enemies of the heir BEWARE.** _

They became aware of footsteps, dozens of them. A crowd of students fresh from the feast rounded the corner. Their conversations died as they discovered the gruesome tableau. Dumbledore, who had been leading the procession, motioned for a Slytherin prefect to approach him. "Get the first years to their dormitories, and for Merlin's sake don't let them see this."

"What's happening?" A figure was pushing his way through the crowd.

"Argus, stay back!" Dumbledore shouted, but it was too late.

"NO!" Filch raced to Mrs. Norris, eyes brimming with tears. His gaze went from his cat's body to Harry and Hilda. "You!" He grabbed Harry around the arms, spittle flying from his lips. "You did this! I'll tear the flesh from your back!"

"Argus, get off him!" McGonagall and Sprout ran forwards, pulling the caretaker off the boy. "Mr. Potter had nothing to do with this!"

Dumbledore moved over to Harry and Hilda. "What did you see?" he asked, leaning in, his usually jovial face unexpectedly grave.

"Headmaster!" Frida, Ron, Hermione and David rounded the corner at that time. Frida momentarily faltered at the sight of Mrs. Norris. "Oh, no," she whispered. David looked on the verge of vomiting. Even Ron, whose affection for Filch's cat was nonexistent, was ashen-faced with horror.

"We heard Mrs. Norris scream," Hilda began. "And we found her like this."

"And why weren't you at the Feast?" Dumbledore asked.

"We were at Nick's deathday party," Hermione said, trying hard to focus on the headmaster and not glance over at Mrs. Norris.

"I see," the headmaster straightened himself and turned to Filch. "Argus, be calm. Mrs. Norris is alive, she is just petrified. It is a relatively easy condition to fix." He looked over at Professor Sprout. "How are the mandrakes coming along, Pomona?"

"They're still in their infancy," Sprout replied. "It won't be until spring when they're harvestable."

"I want them punished!" Filch howled, pointing to Harry and Hilda. "They did this."

"We have no proof of that, Argus," Dumbledore said.

"They know I'm a squib!"

"And Miss Dahl's mother is a squib. There is no reason for them to target Mrs. Norris. Go see Nurse Pomfrey for a sleeping draught." McGonagall led the disconsolate caretaker away as Dumbledore turned to the students. "I think it's best that all of you retired to bed. Let the professors handle the matter from here on out."

"Ha!" Draco Malfoy had pressed his way to the front of the crowd and read the message with glee. "Enemies of the heir beware! That means you, Mudbloods."

Before Harry or anyone else could stop her, Hilda had crossed over to Malfoy and dealt him a swift uppercut to the jaw.

"Oh dear," Harry heard Dumbledore mutter. "I expect to receive a few letters from Lucius for that."


	10. The Secret Life of Argus Filch

Despite the best efforts of Filch and several of the professors, the writing on the wall of the corridor would not come off. McGonagall and Filch finally decided to pin a couple oriental rugs from an unused classroom over the message.

For days, Ginny was disconsolate about Mrs. Norris. Despite Frida, Hilda and Ron's attempts to comfort her, she withdrew further into her thoughts.

Hilda, too, was upset by the incident, which is why the Saturday after she made her way to Filch's office with a plate of biscuits supplied by the kitchen house elves.

Filch answered his door, greeting Hilda with a scowl. "What do you want?" he asked. Obviously, he still had his suspicions about Hilda's involvement.

"I brought you a gift," Hilda said, holding up the platter.

"How can I be sure those Weasley twins didn't pull one of their hexes on those?" Filch asked, lifting the tin foil and glancing at the treats.

Hilda picked one from the selection and bit into it, smiling innocently. "See, no hexes, I promise."

Filch seemed wary, but he stepped aside, opening the door wider. "Well, come in then," he said gruffly.

Hilda walked into the office and took a seat across Filch's desk, placing the tray between her and the caretaker. Filch walked over to a small samovar. "Tea?" he asked, picking up a chipped and handleless mug.

"Thank you."

Filch brought two mugs over, handing one to Hilda. "So, what's with the display of compassion?" He asked, sipping his tea and squinting at the girl. "Come to take pity on a poor old squib?"

Hilda looked at the caretaker in shock. "What happened to your voice?" The growly, rough accent had vanished, replaced with a smooth, surprisingly pleasant tenor.

"Keeping up appearances," Filch said, reaching up with one hand and pulling off his hair. It was actually a wig, revealing a short-cut head of brown hair underneath. Opening a desk drawer, he produced a pair of wire-rimmed glasses and put them on, blinking a few times. "Much better." Without the dirty old man getup, Filch looked twenty years younger.

"I… Why the disguise?" Hilda asked.

"Can't put the fear in the old students looking like a banker," Filch explained. "At first, no one took me seriously. Thus the subterfuge."

"But why share your secret with me?"

"Who's going to believe you?" Filch asked, smirking. "So, what do you really want?" he asked, some of the old menace returning to his voice.

"I wanted to talk to you," Hilda said. "And tell you that I don't hate you for being a squib."

Filch shrugged. "Doesn't prove anything."

"What do you want?" Hilda asked, resisting the urge to tug at her hair in frustration. "I didn't petrify Mrs. Norris, yet I'm trying to apologize for something I had nothing to do with."

"Very peculiar, I'll admit."

 _Who knows how your mind works_ , the Voice said. _I don't, and I live here._

Filch sagged back into his chair. Suddenly, the hint of a smile came to his thin, jagged mouth. "You want to make apologies? I think I have a way for you to do so."

* * *

"You're doing what?" Frida asked.

"I'm helping Mr. Filch with some of the custodial work," Hilda replied nonchalantly, spooning a glob of potatoes onto her plate.

"Why would you do that?" Ron asked. His mouth was full, though, so it came out more like " _Whuhwud yew doat?_ " He finally swallowed and continued. "He's just horrible."

"I think he's bitter," Hilda conceded.

"Doesn't give him the right to be a rotter." Ron chuckled suddenly. "Filch, terror of the schools, a squib." Hermione and Hilda punched Ron on either arm. "Ow! What was that for?"

Hermione rolled her eyes. "You sounded just like Malfoy there."

"You take that back!"

"So you're going to be giving away all your weekend to helping Filch, _voluntarily_?" David repeated.

"What's the big deal?"

"But our study schedule!" Frida picked up her gameplan notebook. "We're supposed to review for the Potions exam all this weekend."

"Oh no," Hilda said, giggling. "I guess I'll just fail the exam. Shame."

* * *

"Arms feeling tired yet?" Filch asked mockingly. The girl was on her knees, scrubbing the floors of the entry hall alone. Hilda noticed that Filch was back in his disguise. It was so odd, knowing his secret. She couldn't imagine how anyone could fail to notice the obvious falsity of his hair, the exaggerated accent, and the fake gnarled fingernails that occasionally popped off to the caretaker's annoyance.

"I'm fine," Hilda replied stubbornly.

Filch shook his head. "Don't lie to me, Miss Dahl. You've been at it for five hours now. Can't have you dying of exhaustion with the floor half-finished." He looked around the hall to make sure no one else was around. "Not too awful a first go," he noted, dropping the voice. He produced a thermos and poured a cup of tea. "Here. Take a break."

"Thanks." Hilda took the mug and drank. "This is exhausting. You must work so hard to keep this castle clean. You're one man, yet you keep everything spotless without magic."

"Not bad, for a squib, ay?" Filch asked, laughing. "That's possibly the first compliment a student has given me."

"Well, you are rather harsh on them."

"Why should I be nice?" Filch snapped. "No respect; I get no respect. People treat me like a ghost, prowling the halls, snatching up unsuspecting first-years and whipping the hides off them."

"You do threaten to do that a lot," Hilda pointed out.

"I try so hard to hide the fact I'm a squib, Miss Dahl. Yet every few years a student or two find out and make my life a living nightmare. You've no doubt noticed, but the Wizarding World isn't a paradise."

"I'm sorry to hear that."

"Why am I even telling you all of this?" Filch asked himself. He shook his head. "I'll admit, ever since I got Mrs. Norris, I've shared my woes with her. Now that she's…well, I guess I've kept everything bottled up."

"She'll be fine, Mr. Filch. Professor Sprout will harvest the Mandrakes in the spring, and she'll be up and running around the castle."

"Suppose you're right," Filch grumbled.

"Could you tell me what it was like?" Hilda suddenly asked, setting down her mug.

"What what's like?"

"Growing up a squib."

Filch sighed, finished off his tea, and sighed again. "My father was disappointed when I showed no magical ability. For eleven years he tried to force the magic out of me. His last hope was sending me to Hogwarts to be sorted. Could you imagine my fright? Riding on the Hogwarts express, knowing full well I was in for failure. And yet when you're a child, there's always hope. I wouldn't have gotten on that train if I hadn't a glimmer of hope."

"So what happened?"

"The Sorting Hat was plonked on my head, and what did it say? 'No Magic!' Hall burst into laughter, and I was hustled out crying to be interrogated-Dippett, the old headmaster was worried a muggle had gotten through the wards somehow. Well, when things were cleared up, I was sent home a laughingstock. After that, my father sent me off to the Muggle world. Told his friends I'd died. Saved him the embarrassment, I suppose."

"That's awful," Hilda said. "I'm so sorry."

"Don't," Filch replied, standing up. "I've long given up accepting condolences."

"So why did you return to the magical world?"

Filch shrugged. "Dumbledore contacted me. He remembered the Sorting debacle, as well as my father disowning me. Say what you will about the Headmaster, but he has a soft spot for lost causes-look at Snape. Offered me a job, and here I am, twenty years later, a bitter man, old before his time. I'm only 47, can you believe that?"

"I think you sell yourself short. You obviously give a lot of your time to this school. I think you should be proud of your work."

"Maybe," Filch said, smiling in spite of himself. "Very kind of you to say that." He picked up the brush and tossed it to Hilda. "Break's over. I want to see my face in those stones."

* * *

Six hours later, Hilda stumbled into the Gryffindor common room and collapsed in a sofa by the fire. Ron and Harry glanced up from their Charms essays. "Did it go well?" Harry asked.

_"My everything hurts."_

"That's what you get for trying to please the whole world," Ron muttered.

Hilda sat up. "Haven't you realized that Filch cleans this entire castle."

Ron was about to scoff when he remembered. "Wait, the whole castle? Without magic?" Hilda nodded. "Cripes, I guess that explains the attitude."

"Maybe you shouldn't be so hard on him," Hilda noted. Ron grumbled something. "I'm sorry, I can't hear you?"

Harry spoke up. "What Ron was trying to say was, does he need any help next weekend?" Ron looked at Harry as Caesar looked at Brutus.

* * *

"What have you started?" Filch asked, watching in disbelief as Ron Weasley—one of the banes of his existence—and Harry Potter beat the dust out of a tapestry of Ophelia the Flame-Retardant.

"What makes you think I had anything to do with this?" Hilda asked.

Filch fixed an eye on Hilda and studied her for a few moments. "Anyone ever tell you you're completely mad?"

 _You don't know the half of it,_ the Voice said, amusement evident in its voice.

"Come," Filch said, "Let's get some tea for the boys. Can't let them pass out from exhaustion, I suppose."

"What happened to 'the whip is too good for them?'" Hilda asked, smirking.

"He's in hibernation. Best not to wake him with cheek," Filch warned tauntingly.

In the office, Filch busied himself with the samovar, while Hilda looked around the chaotic mess of knick-knacks on the walls and every available surface. While Filch was meticulous in keeping the school clean, his zeal didn't extend to his own office.

Hilda picked up a picture frame and wiped some dust from the glass. It was a muggle photograph of four men holding instruments and glowering at the camera. Hilda recognized Argus Filch on the far left, his hair short and well-kempt, holding an electric guitar. "What's this?" she asked, showing the picture to Filch.

Filch's eyes widened. "Was wondering where that went to," he muttered, taking the frame. He shook himself from his nostalgia trip. "It's nothing."

"C'mon, were you in a band?" Hilda continued, pressing the caretaker for an answer.

Filch sighed. "Yes, for a while. We called ourselves the Squibs—Lou, Rockwell, and Niall were muggles, so it was sort of an inside joke. We were a bunch of smug art-school punks, convinced we'd be bigger than the Beatles. Never really took off, though we cut one album shortly before the breakup. It's here somewhere," he walked over to an overstuffed filing cabinet and rummaging through hit until he came up with an LP. "Here it is. Haven't listened to it in ages."

"And you played the guitar?"

Filch smiled. "I wanted some sort of a hobby to fit in with the muggles at school."

"Hilda nodded. "When I first moved to Trolberg from the wilderness, I had trouble fitting in."

Filch chuckled. "You did a good job of that. Andersen and Aiken seem like a good lot. Plus, you have Harry Potter watching your back. Not bad for a new bug."

Hilda's smile faded as she reflected on the last few weeks. "Can I talk to you?"

"By all means," Filch gestured to the chair across from his. "You've kept my secret, and I respect that."

Hilda sat down and sighed. "I have been told by several people that there is a…darkness in me."

Filch leaned forward, elbows on the desk. "How so?"

"Mr. Ollivander told me that he sensed it in me. He told me my wand was capable of great darkness and great good."

"Ollivander is a bit of loony," Filch said, waving the wandmaker away as though he were a fly in the room.

"So did the Sorting Hat."

Filch nodded. "Hmm. And what do you think about the whole thing? Do you feel that there is an evil in you?"

Hilda bit her lip before continuing. "For the last month, I've been hearing a voice in the back of my mind."

 _You grasser_ , the Voice hissed.

"What does it say?"

"Well, right now it called me a grasser."

Filch rolled his eyes. "No, not just now. What has it said to you to make you so afraid?"

"It told me to cast a Cruciatus on Malfoy. I almost did, but my magical core rejected it."

"Troubling," Filch said, sipping from his mug. "And have you followed any other… _advice_ this voice has offered."

"No, but I'm scared," Hilda said. "I'm scared it will take control again."

Filch mused over the matter for a minute. "Miss Dahl, this voice is a voice that many people have dealt with, albeit not quite so literally. You are afraid of this darkness, and that is understandable, but you always have a choice. You are a good person, Miss Dahl. That has been evident ever since we've properly met."

Hilda considered Filch's words. "Ollivander said that the wand chooses the wizard, but the wizard controls the wand."

"Exactly. So far, you have shown me no evidence other than your fears that you are a future Dark Lord, er, _Lady_. No matter where you go from here, Hilda, it is determined by your decisions, not the Voice's."

Hilda nodded and gave a smile, but she didn't feel entirely convinced. "Thank you, Mr. Filch. I'd better head back to the dormitory."

"Remember that my office is always open. Goodnight, Hilda."

Hilda walked up the stairs, lost in thought. Halfway up, the stairs shifted. "Hey!" she called up at the next flight. "I need to get up there. Move back!" The stairs seemed disinclined to obey. Growling, Hilda detoured down the nearest corridor, hoping to find another staircase to get up the rest of the way.

A few hundred feet down the corridor, she heard something. A rustling of a cloak. Glancing to her right, she saw a door slightly ajar. As she looked, a shadow passed between the door and the light from a window. "Hello?" Hilda asked, stepping closer. She pulled out her wand, cast a Lumos, and pushed open the door.

It was an old storage room, the shelves for the most part dusty, their contents long-neglected. Hilda stopped and grabbed a textbook off of the nearest shelf. She opened it and saw it was an old Potions book. " _Property of the Halfblood Prince_?" She said, reading the inscription on the front endpaper. Shrugging, she put the book back.

A few rows of shelves over there was another noise, the sound of something falling. Hilda walked over and saw a dust cloth had fallen off of a tall mirror in an elaborate gilt frame. Above the glass was an inscription.

_Erised stra ehru oyt ube cafru oyt on wohsi._

Hilda glanced down from the inscription to the glass, watching her reflection. As she stood there, she realized that a black figure had materialized just behind her. Spinning around, she saw there was no one, but turning back, the figure was still in the mirror. It leaned in towards her ear.

 _This is not a choice, Hilda._ The Voice whispered. _This is destiny. This power, this darkness inside you will grow. It's growing now, day by day, a black spot, bigger and bigger._

The figure in the mirror reached over Hilda's shoulder and tapped at Hilda's chest, right above her heart. Hilda gasped as a cold force pierced through her. _You and I are bound for greatness, whether you like it or not, the Voice continued. And you have two options going forward: We can get along and work together, or I will take control and destroy you._ The finger pushed into Hilda's skin, and she fell to her knees, crying out in pain but unable to make a sound. After what seemed like hours the pain ceased. When Hilda wiped the tears from her eyes and looked up at the glass the black figure was gone.

 _Remember_ , the Voice whispered. Hilda stood up, grabbed her bag, and ran from the room as though the Devil himself were following her.

* * *

**I hope readers liked my portrayal of Filch. I sometimes find it frustrating that "Hatsune Miku" could make such fleshed-out characters, yet leave so many others as two-dimensional caricatures. I enjoy fanfics that delve deeper into these characters, and so I hope you will enjoy this characterization of Filch (as well as others in future chapters) too.**


	11. Questions and Clues

Hilda treaded lightly for the first few days after the encounter in the storeroom. She didn't mention the Voice's attack to Filch. Instead, she acted like nothing ever happened, to the intense irritation of the Voice. So far, it hadn't made any further moves to establish control.

 _Why is that?_ Hilda asked.

 _I want to keep you in suspense_ , the Voice replied. _The threat of retribution can instill more terror than the act itself._

Still, some stress was relieved, allowing Hilda to go on, business as usual. Her performance in her classes was satisfactory, but not exceptional. Her days became somewhat routine:

  * Breakfast
  * Lessons
  * Lunch
  * Walkies for Twig
  * More lessons
  * Tea with Filch
  * Studying with David and Frida
  * Dinner
  * And, last but _certainly_ not least, questioning Harry, Ron and Hermione on their fledgling investigation into the Chamber of Secrets.



That night, Hermione filled her in on the revelations in Professor Binns's class—the rift between Godric Gryffindor and Salazar Slytherin; the foundation of the Pureblood superiority ( _inferiority?_ ) complex; and the supposed creation of the Chamber, where a beast slumbered throughout the centuries, awaiting the return of the fabled Heir of Slytherin to unseal the Chamber and take his revenge.

"Well, whether the story is true or not," Hilda said as the story finished, "Someone or something is in the school, and it's dangerous." She finished up her notes of the investigation before continuing. "Who do you think the Heir of Slytherin could be?"

"Isn't it obvious?" Ron asked in disbelief.

"No, not really."

"It's Malfoy, obviously. His family is Pureblood going back ages. If anyone's a descendant of Slytherin, it's him."

Hilda stared at Ron for a few moments, then burst out laughing. "Honestly," she said once her giggles were under control. "That's just ridiculous."

"How is it ridiculous?" Ron asked, "He hates Muggleborns, he's a Slytherin."

"And what else?" Hermione asked. "You'd love him to be the Heir of Slytherin. Being a git doesn't make him a monster."

Hilda wanted to agree with Hermione. She did, at least vocally. Yet the shadow of a doubt remained.

 _He would be a useful ally_ , the Voice said. _If you hadn't blasted his father across the room and tried to curse him, we'd have the advantage._

_I don't want power. I want peace._

_We'll see how long that optimism lasts._

Hilda broke free from her thoughts and looked back to Harry. "What else have you found out?"

"Not much," Harry admitted.

"Hermione's combed the entire library," Ron said. "Nowhere in the books is the Chamber mentioned."

"What about the 'crime scene'?" Hilda asked. "Have you given it a look since that night?"

"Surely any evidence would have been collected by Dumbledore by now," Hermione said.

"But the school isn't treating this as a crime," Hilda pointed out. "They're looking at it as a cruel prank. If you think I'm wrong, then why weren't the Aurors called? Why aren't they searching the entire castle for the Chamber?"

"It wouldn't hurt to have a look around," Harry said.

"Well, not until tomorrow," Hermione said, glancing out the window at the dark night sky. "It's much too late."

"That shouldn't be a problem," Ron said, grinning. "Not when Harry has his Dad's Inv- _rmph!_ " Harry clapped a hand over Ron's mouth. Ron pulled back. "Oi, what was that for?"

" _Not in front of Hilda,_ " Harry hissed.

"What do you have, Harry?" Hilda asked.

Harry gave Ron an annoyed look before sizing Hilda up. He mulled things over a bit before speaking. "What I'm about to tell you, only three people know: Ron, Harry, and myself. Can I trust you?"

Hilda crossed her heart. "Promise."

Harry nodded, then stood up. "I'll go get the cloak."

* * *

"This is amazing!" Hilda exclaimed, gazing from under Harry's cloak through the delicate fabric. "We're completely invisible?"

 _"Yes, but we can still be heard,"_ Ron said in a terse whisper. _"So zippit, and stop stomping your feet."_

"I'm not stomping," Hilda grumbled.

They turned a corner, nearly colliding with Flitwick. Softly, they stepped out of the diminutive Charms professor's path, watching as he passed them without even a glance.

 _"Wicked,"_ Hilda breathed. Harry couldn't help but smile in agreement.

A few minutes later, they reached the courtyard. Harry threw the Invisibility cloak off and stepped towards the message on the wall. "Everyone fan out, but stay within sight, and stay quiet. Anyone hears footsteps, whistle."

Hilda walked over to the opposite wall and knelt down by some strange marks. She brushed them with her index finger and rubbed the substance between her finger and her thumb, noticing how it stained the pads black. "Scorch marks," she whispered.

Harry came over and nodded. "Good eye."

"I've found something!" Hermione said, gesturing them over to the window closest to the message. "Look at the spiders," she said, gesturing to the long line of arachnids pushing their way through a crack in the pane. "Have you ever seen them act like that?"

Harry shook his head.

"No," Hilda answered. "How about you, Ron?" She turned and saw that the redhead had pressed himself against the opposite wall. "Ron?"

"I'll...I'll stay over here if that's alright," Ron said, giving a weak smile.

Hilda stood up and put her hands on her hips. "Are you afraid of spiders, Brave Mr. Gryffindor?" Ron looked away.

"You use them in potions all the time," Hermione said.

"Yeah, but they're dead. I don't like them alive." Hilda and Hermione both gave muffled giggles. "It's not funny!" Ron said, scowling. "Fred turned my bear into a spider when I was three."

Harry had moved away from the window and was inspecting the floors. "Remember the water?" Harry asked. "Where could that have come from?"

"Best bet would be the toilets down the hall," Hermione said, gesturing to a door twenty yards further down the corridor.

They walked over, Hermione and Hilda opening the door and walking in. When Harry and Ron failed to follow, they poked their heads back out. "Now what's wrong?" Hilda asked. "Are you scared of loos as well, Ron?"

"That's a girls' toilet," Ron pointed out, gesturing to the sign by the door.

"So? No one ever comes in here," Hermione said, pointing to the _Out of Order_ sign. "This is Moaning Myrtle's toilet."

"Moaning Myrtle?" Harry asked.

"She's a student who died at Hogwarts about fifty years ago," Hermione said. "She haunts this bathroom, for some reason. She generally is rude to guests. A bit temperamental, too."

 _"I can hear you, you know!"_ a voice from inside shouted, followed by muffled sobs.

"Oh, Merlin," Hermione muttered. "Already on the wrong foot. Myrtle! It's been a while, how are you?" She turned to Ron and Harry. "Ok, stand guard outside and get us if anyone's coming."

Hilda followed Hermione back into the toilets, looking around at the neglected stalls and chipped sinks.

"I don't see why you'd come," the voice said again. Harry glanced up at the ceiling. The ghost of a young girl in a Hogwarts robe floated upside-down over them. "You obviously hate me."

"Of course not," Hermione said. "Hilda just wanted to meet you. Hilda, this is Myrtle."

Hilda waved. "Hello. How come I've never seen you around the castle before?"

"The other ghosts can't stand me," Myrtle said with a sniff. "And Peeves tortures me whenever he sees me. No one likes me, so I stay here," she said, looking on the verge of tears again.

"I'm sure that's not true," Hilda said. "I think you need to get out more, try and make friends. It can't be very nice staying cooped up in here with no one to talk to."

Myrtle drifted down to eye level, studying Hilda suspiciously. "Everyone hated me when I was alive, why should it be any different when I'm dead?"

"Times have changed," Hilda said.

"Do thirteen-year-old girls still spread rumors and gossip?"

Hermione and Hilda cringed. "I mean, some."

"Then what's the point?"

"Myrtle," Hermione said, attempting to salvage the conversation. "Did you see anything strange about a week ago? Halloween night, to be exact?"

"I hadn't noticed," Myrtle said, laying on the melodrama. "Peeves had me so upset with one of his tricks that I came in here to kill myself."

Hilda was glad Ron wasn't in here to point out the obvious flaw to the ghost's plan in his usual blunt manner. "Are you sure?"

"You don't believe me?" Myrtle asked, face darkening. "Figures. I give the wrong answer and suddenly you're calling me a liar."

"I wasn't-" Hilda began, but before she could finish, Myrtle gave a cry of misery and, with a backflip, dove into one of the toilets with a splash, vanishing down into the u-bend, where her gurgled cries could still be heard.

Hermione sighed warily. "That was pretty cheery for Myrtle."

"Do you think we'll get like that?" Hilda asked.

Hermione shrugged. "My mother always said the teen years are awful. Everyone's emotional, everyone's self-conscious, everyone's angry and jealous."

 _Sounds wonderful_ , the Voice said. _I can hardly wait._

"I can hardly wait," Hilda muttered. "So Myrtle's been stuck in a perpetual hormone nightmare for the last half-century-I hate to imagine that." Hilda shuddered. "She needs some confidence."

"Well, I wish her luck finding it." With that, they left Myrtle to her moaning.

"Any luck?" Harry asked.

"Nope."

"Figures," Ron muttered. "All she does is whine and cry. She probably wouldn't notice the castle falling down around her. She needs to lighten up."

"You ought to tell her that," Hilda said.

"Really?"

"No, you prat."

"...Didn't have to be sarcastic."

* * *

"So we have clues," Hermione said at breakfast the next day, studying Hilda's notes. "But nothing to tie them all together."

"What about Malfoy?" Ron asked in between shark-sized bites of sausage roll.

"Honestly," Hilda muttered.

"What, you remember what he said. ' _That means you, Mudbloods!_ '"

"I'd rather forget," Hilda said, moving her eggs around the plate.

"H does have a motive. It could be worth checking out," Harry said.

Hermione frowned. "If we were to consider Malfoy a suspect, I may have a plan on getting him to talk."

"Really?" Ron asked. "What changed your mind?"

"We need to cover all bases in an investigation," Hermione said.

"So what's the plan?"

"It's going to require a lot of preparation and a lot of rule-breaking. I'll tell you later when we're not surrounded by listening ears." At that, Fred and George looked back to their Transfiguration textbooks, whistling innocently.

The three got up to head to class, leaving Hilda alone, but not for long. Frida came over and sat down across from her. "There you are!" she said. "I thought we'd agreed to sit at the Hufflepuff table today with David."

"What?" Then Hilda remembered. "Oh! Sorry, I completely forgot," she admitted sheepishly. "I had to talk to Harry and his friends."

"Well, no problem," Frida said. "We can still meet up with him at lunch." Hilda frowned. "You've been spending an awful lot of time with them lately."

"I haven't forgotten my studies if that's what you're implying."

"Good, then you can give me a hand," she pushed a stack of parchments across the table. "I need you to put these up around the castle."

"What are they?" Hilda asked. She picked up one of the posters and read it aloud. " _Grades slipping? Talk to Frida Aiken. Personal and group tutoring._ " She looked up at Frida. "Really? You're spreading your study madness around?"

Frida rolled her eyes. "I'll have you know that I already have several first-years interested."

A light bulb went off in Hilda's head. "Are there any Slytherins, by any chance?"

"A couple. I'm supposed to meet with one tomorrow night in the Slytherin common room to help him with the Astrology homework."

"Wait, the Slytherins are allowing you into their common room?" Hilda asked. "They won't let anyone outside of their house in there.

"Well, this student wishes it not to be known that he's doing poorly," Frida replied. "Apparently Snape expects perfection, and he also expects an unblemished image."

A plan began to percolate in Hilda's mind. _Someone's thinking deviously,_ the Voice said. _I like it._ "You know, I'm having some trouble with Astrology, too. You think I could tag along?"

 _We'll see who gets to Malfoy first_ , she thought.

_The Sorting Hat was right, you should have been in Slytherin._

* * *

**Well, well. Let's see how Hilda's plan unfurls.**

**As a note to the readers, I was wondering how many have noticed the various pop-culture Easter eggs I've sprinkled throughout the chapters. If you find any, send me a message, and I'll give you a shout-out at the start of the next chapter.**


	12. Blow-Up

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hilda plots to break into the Slytherin Dorms, and recruits an ally who gets more than he bargained for.

The next evening Hilda met Frida outside the Great Hall. "So where's this Slytherin student?" she asked.

"She's supposed to meet us up here and lead us down."

"Frida?" a Slytherin first-year emerged from behind a column. "Who's with you?" she asked.

"Hi, Veronica. This is Hilda. She's going to study with us tonight."

"She's a Gryffindor," Veronica hissed, eying Hilda suspiciously. "She can't come."

"Why not?" Hilda demanded. "I need Frida's help as much as you do."

"I'm risking my neck enough getting Frida into the Slytherin dormitories," Veronica replied. "If I'm caught bringing a Gryffindor into the Snake Den, I'll never hear the end of it."

Hilda couldn't help but scoff. "You call it the Snake Den?"

"Yes...No! Shut up! You can't come, and that's that."

Frida stepped between the two, hands up in mediation. "Veronica, Hilda's my friend, and she needs my help just as much as you do. If she's not allowed to study with us, then the deal is off."

Veronica scowled. "Fine! I'll just study on my own. My grade's on you, Aiken!" she turned and stormed away in a huff.

Frida's shoulders fell. "Well, that was a bust."

"I'm sorry, Frida. I shouldn't have come along."

"Frida smiled. "It's alright. Now we can study one-one-one."

Hilda's face went white. "What?"

"C'mon," Frida grabbed Hilda's hand and walked them towards the Great Hall. "We'll grab David and get started on the Goblin Rebellion essay. We can even peer review! This'll be so much fun!"

 _And I thought I was crazy_ , the Voice said.

 _"What have I done?"_ Hilda whispered as she was dragged away to an evening's torture at the hands of her best friend.

* * *

The next day, Hilda tried again to brainstorm a way of getting into the Slytherin dorms. She finally tracked down the entrance, an apparently bare stone wall located around the corner from Snape's classroom. She had been running late to class, so too had Veronica, as she emerged from the hidden entrance just as Hilda was passing by. "Come to spy?" she asked, glowering.

"Just on my way to class," Hilda replied, hiding her grin.

However, just because she now knew where to get in didn't mean she knew how. Frustratingly, it was the Voice who came up with the solution the next morning in the Great Hall.

Frida and David joined her at breakfast, but Hilda noticed that the Gryffindor table was missing several students. "Where's Harry?" she asked, craning her neck to see down either end of the table.

"Quidditch game's today," Ron said, putting a troll-sized helping of bacon onto his plate. "It's the big match against Slytherin; Wood's had them rehearsing the game plan since three o'clock."

"Three in the morning?" Frida asked.

"No, three in the afternoon," Neville corrected her. "Apparently they bunked in the locker rooms last night."

"So, everyone's going to this game?" Hilda asked.

Ron nodded. "Of course, the Gryffindor/Slytherin rivalry is the most important match of the year."

"I thought that was the Ravenclaw/Slytherin match," Frida said.

"I thought it was the Hufflepuff/Slytherin match," David said.

Ron rolled his eyes. "Of course, everyone hates the Slytherin team. But Gryffindor won the Quidditch cup for the first time in ages last year, and everyone's looking for a repeat."

"Obviously not everyone, Ron," Hermione said, gesturing to David and Frida.

Ron blushed. "Oh, right." He glanced down at his watch and gave a start. "Game starts in an hour. C'mon, Hermione, we need to go now to get the best seats."

"You mean the ones closest to Hagrid?" Hermione asked, smiling.

"He always brings more snacks than he can eat alone. We wouldn't want them to go to waste. Hilda, are you coming?"

 _The Slytherin Dorms would be empty,_ the Voice said. _There's no better time._

"Actually, I'm going to stay in and work on my Charms homework," Hilda said, getting up from the table and collecting her things. Twig looked up from under her chair with disbelief. Obviously, the word 'snacks' had gotten him excited. "Don't worry, boy, you can go." Twig wagged his tail and trotted over to Frida and David. "I'll try and get to the match before it ends," she told them, before hurrying out of the Hall.

"Alright," she said to herself as she made her way up the stairs. "I hate to ask, but I assume you have a plan?"

_Yes, but you probably won't like it, Miss Goody-Goody._

"Just tell me."

_It would be easy to get into the Slytherin dorms. You can slip in when someone comes or goes._

"Yes, but the trick is doing so without being seen," Hilda growled before screeching to a halt before the Fat Lady. "Wait, are you suggesting…"

_No one will know that you took it. You'll have it back before the end of the game._

"I am not stealing from Harry!" she hissed.

 _'Stealing,'_ the Voice gave a derisive snort. _Such a petty human squabble. I prefer the term 'borrowing' or 'long-term loan'._

"I will not do it."

"Are you talking to me?" Hilda glanced up at the portrait of the Fat Lady, who was giving the first year a confused look.

"No, sorry. Basilisk," she said, giving the portrait the password.

_Look, if you have any ideas on how to get into the Slytherin rooms, then, by all means, tell me. I can read your mind, however, and I see you're drawing a blank._

"We could be caught," she said.

_We run that risk regardless of our plan. If you didn't want to get in trouble, you wouldn't be trying to break into a rival house dormitory._

Hilda sighed. "Fine, but just because I'm doing this doesn't mean we're suddenly friends. We're allies."

 _Allies and friends are both the same, really,_ the Voice mused. _Except friends are easier to manipulate than allies._

"Friendships aren't about manipulation."

 _Oh, I'm sorry, was it me or you who tried to use their 'friend' Frida to get into the Slytherin dorms?_ Hilda paused, then scowled. _I thought so._

"Hilda?" A voice brought her back startled into the real world. She realized that she was halfway up the steps leading to the boy's dormitory and that Colin Creevey was standing at the top of the stairs, looking at her strangely. "Why are you coming up to the boy's dormitory?"

Hilda thought quickly. "Oh, wow, I must have zoned out. A lot on my mind."

"Yeah, you were talking to yourself about something. You're not going to the Quidditch match?"

Hilda was about to answer when her eyes fell upon the camera in Colin's hands. "I am, I just came to get my scarf."

"You're wearing your scarf."

"Oh, silly me. Well, guess I'm ready."

 _What are you doing?_ The voice asked, annoyed.

 _I have a plan that doesn't involve breaking and entering and theft,_ Hilda replied as she and Colin went back through the portrait entrance and descended the staircase.

"Say, Colin," Hilda said, trying to sound as casual as possible. "How good are you with that camera?"

"I like to think I'm pretty good. I've managed to sell a few of my pictures of Harry to the Prophet."

"I thought you were going to give him a break."

Colin gave a sheepish smile. "The _Prophet_ wants photos, and I need the money. My darkroom here is pretty amateur, but McGonagall is willing to help me build one if I can raise half the money."

 _Bingo._ Hilda smiled. "If you need money, I may have a job for you."

"Really?" he said, perked up. "What do you need?"

"I think Malfoy is involved in Mrs. Norris's accident, but I don't have proof," Hilda explained, leaning in towards Colin conspiratorially. "I need someone to tail him at night and photograph."

"So, you want me to stalk Malfoy and take pictures if I catch him doing anything suspicious?"

"Right."

Colin rubbed his chin. "I'd be interested if the money was right."

"Ten galleons?"

"Twenty galleons."

"Fifteen, and I'll do your History of Magic homework for a month."

"Deal!" They shook on it.

"Thanks, Colin."

"Glad to help you out."

 _So we're not doing anything illegal?_ The Voice asked, audibly disappointed. _Buzzkill._

Hilda smiled. "You are helping, in more ways than one."

* * *

"I thought you were doing schoolwork," Frida said as Hilda and Colin took their seats beside her and David on the bleachers. Twig leapt into Hilda's lap, tail wagging, and settled in.

"I remembered I'd already done it," Hilda replied, stroking Twig behind the ears.

"You really are lost in your head today," Colin remarked. "She almost walked up into the boy's dormitory."

Ron chuckled, spewing bits of popcorn on Hermione's lap. "That would have been something. Good thing Colin stopped you."

"Don't talk with your mouthful, Ron," Hermione said.

"Yeah," Hilda agreed. "He really saved me."

The Gryffindor bleachers broke out into wild cheers as the red and gold team entered the field. The cheering swiftly changed to booing as the Slytherins followed. After tense handshakes between the teams, they took off on their brooms, the balls were released, and the game began.

* * *

"Malfoy obviously charmed the bludger to attack Harry," Ron snarled as they watched Harry being helped off the field by Hagrid and Lockhart.

"How would he be able to do that?" Hermione asked. "That would require complex spellwork way beyond our skill level."

"I just know he did it," Ron said.

Hilda fell back to walk beside Colin. " _You're on_ ," she whispered. Colin gave her a smile and a mock salute before he peeled off from the group, trailing behind the Slytherin team at a respectable distance.

"Where's Colin going?" David asked.

"The _Prophet's_ paying him for photos of the Quidditch match," Hilda lied.

"He's doing well for himself," Hermione noted. "I'm happy for him.

"Maybe _I_ should get a camera," Ron thought aloud.

* * *

Colin kept at least thirty paces behind Malfoy, camera at the ready. So far, he hadn't done anything to raise suspicion. He'd changed in the locker room, had dinner in the Great Hall, then Malfoy shed his gorillas Crabbe and Goyle and went to the library to get some last-minute study time. Ten minutes before curfew, he left and headed for the dungeons.

As he watched Malfoy disappear into the Slytherin Dormitory, Colin huffed in frustration. "At least I'm getting paid to do nothing," he muttered, shouldering his camera and heading for the stairs.

He'd just reached the third-floor landing when a deep rumbling noise caught his attention. His eyes widened as he watched a bulge in the stonework travel down the side corridor, heading for the spot where Mrs. Norris had been petrified. Pulling the lens cap off his camera, he ran after. Rounding the corner, he raised the camera to his eye and pressed the shutter button. The flashbulb went off, illuminating the monster as it turned its head in surprise.

Before Colin could scream, his vocal cords froze up, along with the rest of him. His camera fell from his stiff hands, smashing to pieces as it struck the wet stone floor.

* * *

Hilda whistled as she made her way into the great hall, taking her seat at the Gryffindor table. She glanced around, searching the table. "Anyone seen Colin?" she asked, picking up a muffin.

There was a dead silence around her. She looked around. Ron was staring at her in disbelief. Hermione covered her mouth, eyes wide. The Weasley twins looked grim. "You haven't heard?" Fred asked.

"Heard what?" Hilda asked slowly, replacing the muffin.

Fred took a deep breath. "Colin's in the hospital wing—

—He was petrified last night."

"Hilda, wait!" Hermione cried, but the first year was already on her feet and racing out of the great hall.

Hilda dashed through the school, ducking and dodging her way through the throng of students. One unfortunate Slytherin fourth-year didn't clear the way in time and was knocked off his feet, his charms homework flying in the air.

She passed David and Frida as they were coming in. "Hilda!" Frida called out. "What's wrong?"

She reached the infirmary doors and pushed them open, startling Nurse Pomfrey. "Miss Dahl!" she said, standing up. "Visiting hours begin at two."

Hilda ignored her and ran down the row of cots until she reached Colin's bed. She dropped to her knees beside the boy and looked into his glassy eyes. "Colin, can you hear me?" she asked. "I'm sorry," she reached out and grabbed Colin's arm. "I'm so sorry."

"Hilda," she looked over at the next bed. Harry was pulling on his robes, presumably having just been released from the infirmary. "He can't hear you."

"This is all my fault," she said.

Harry waved her over and had her sit down on the cot next to him. "How is it your fault?" he asked.

"I paid him to spy on Malfoy. It's because of me he's here"

Harry shook his head. "It isn't your fault."

"He wouldn't have been out after curfew if I hadn't made him do it."

"Hilda, are you the Heir of Slytherin?"

Hilda gave a start. "No," she stuttered. "Of course not."

"Then it's not your fault," Dumbledore said, his face softening. "It may have been because of you that Colin was in that hallway, but whatever it was that put him on that cot was not of your doing."

"It was Malfoy," Hilda said matter-of-factly. "He must have caught Colin following him and put the beast on him." Her anger welled up. _"I'm going to kill him,"_ she growled. Harry noticed her hands start to glow.

"Hilda, please don't," Harry said, pulling the girl into a hug. For a few moments, Hilda didn't quite know what was happening, but as her anger faded, she started to blush and returned the hug awkwardly. Harry pulled away and smiled confidently. "We're not going to kill him."

Hilda sighed. "I know, but I tried to catch him, and look where it got me," she looked over at Colin. "Look where it got Colin." We're out of our league. We need to leave it to the professors and Dumbledore."

Harry shook his head. "We're not giving up. Hermione has a plan, and we're going to break into the Slytherin dorms and get Malfoy to confess."

"How on earth are you going to do that?"

"I can't say," Harry said, making sure Nurse Pomfrey wasn't listening in. "It's not entirely legal."

Hilda looked away. "That doesn't matter. What's important is that we get him" She turned back to Harry and smiled. "For Colin."

 _And for revenge,_ the Voice chimed in. _And also for fun._

Harry put his arm around Hilda and pulled her in for an awkward half-hug. "For Colin."


	13. When Vegetables Attack

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> David puts his pipes to good use. Hilda gets caught in the crossfire, and an invitation is extended.

The next day the staff and students alike attempted to keep a sense of normalcy after the previous night's attack. Beneath all of the forced smiles and forced laughter, however, was a sense of foreboding. Many asked who was responsible for these attacks and even more speculated as to who the next victim could be. The Weasley twins were running a lucrative side-hustle by taking bets.

"Did you hear they're starting a dueling club?" Hermione asked at breakfast the next morning.

Ron scoffed. "Figures. With a monster on the loose, everyone's anxious to learn to defend themselves."

"When is it?" Hilda asked.

"It's tonight after dinner here in the great hall. Says all are welcome to attend, but first-year students are to be observers only."

"That's not fair!" Frida said angrily. "Colin was a first-year. If he'd known how to fight, he might've gotten away." David and Hilda nodded in agreement. "This is a load of rubbish."

"So you're not coming?" Harry asked.

"Oh, we'll be coming, but as protesters."

"Also the duels will probably be fun to watch," David said excitedly.

_"David!"_

* * *

The day crawled by at a dead snail's pace for Hilda. By the time Herbology class with the Hufflepuffs rolled around she was nearly insane with impatience. "Are you alright, Hilda?" David asked as they entered the greenhouse.

"I'm just sick of waiting for tonight to come around," she moaned.

"Welcome, class!" Professor Sprout entered the rooms and gestured for the Gryffindor and Hufflepuff first-years to stop whispering among themselves and take their seats at the potting tables. "Today we'll be checking the young Mandrakes to see how their development is coming along."

Sprout left and returned with a cart of pots, each with a small fern springing from the potting soil within. She placed one at each table before heading to the front of the class. "What do you all know about Mandrakes? Yes, David?"

"They can be used to cure petrification."

Sprout nodded. "Ten points to Hufflepuff. Incidentally, David, there's a spider on your shoulder.

"Cripes!" David brushed the spider off and onto the table, watching it scamper away. "I feel like that's the same one every time."

"He must like you," Hilda said, giggling.

"As David said, and as you are all probably aware, the root of a fully-grown Mandrake is an important ingredient in the potion Snape is making to free Mr. Creevey and Mrs. Norris from their frozen state. However, as the winter season is approaching, these little-ones are burrowed into their pots, hibernating. And a hibernating Mandrake does not like to be woken."

"Like Vittra?" Hilda asked.

Professor Sprout chuckled. "Yes, I suppose they may be related. I heard about your adventure with Lockhart and Chief Mudclaudia. You'd think Gilderoy would have known not to pluck a Vittra young'un from its patch, but that's going off on a tangent. So, onto the examination. I need everyone to put on their earmuffs; although they're young, a baby Mandrake's cry can stun a fully-grown wizard."

Once the earmuffs were on, Professor Sprout amplified her voice so she could be heard. "Alright, class, watch and then follow." Pulling up her robe sleeve, she grabbed the fern by its base and pulled gently but firmly. Up popped the fern, which was, in reality, the sleeping Mandrake's hair. Immediately, it started screaming, kicking its little legs around. All the students heard through their muffs was a faint, high-pitched whine.

"As you can see," Professor Sprout shouted. "They need to be calmed. There is no ideal technique to do so, which is why we use this mild muscle-relaxant draught to mellow them out." Picking up an atomizer, she attempted to spray a puff of its contents into the Mandrake's open mouth. The Mandrake, however, was not having it, and with a thrust of its little hand, it knocked the atomizer to the floor, where it shattered, spilling its contents across the floor. Professor Sprout muttered something inaudible, but Hilda could make an educated guess.

"Well, this is bad," Professor Sprout shouted. "I need someone to go to the dungeons and ask Snape for a new potion. In the meantime, everybody stay calm, there is no need to panic."

As if on cue, the pots in front of each student began to shake and rattle. The students stepped back as the Mandrakes popped their heads out of the soil, having been awoken by their sibling's cries. "Okay!" Sprout hollered over the growing din. "Not ideal, but there's still no need to panic." Then the Mandrake in Sprout's hand slapped her face, knocking her pair of earmuffs off of her head. The professor's eyes widened in surprise, then rolled back in her head as she dropped the Mandrake and fell over in a dead faint.

There was a long moment's silence, then pandemonium as thirty students started panicking.

 _"What do we do?"_ someone shouted.

_"Catch them!"_

_"They're running under the tables!"_

_"One brushed against my leg. Ow! It kicked me in the shin!"_

One of the Hufflepuffs grabbed a hoe lying against a wall. "Everyone! Grab a weapon!" he yelled, warming up to take a swing at a Mandrake.

Suddenly, the Mandrakes stopped their screaming. One by one, they turned their attention to David, who had climbed up on one of the potting tables. Hilda risked lifting her earmuffs off to hear what was happening.

David, in his choirboy voice, was singing a lullaby.

One by one, the Mandrakes sat down, heads rocking back and forth to the song. Hilda slowly walked over to one and picked it up, cradling it like a newborn and rocking it. As everyone watched, mouths agape, she pointed to the drowsy Mandrake in her arms, then gestured to the ones surrounding her.

Gradually, one of the Gryffindor's caught on and picked up another Mandrake. The others followed suit, and soon all of the students were busy rocking the Mandrakes to sleep. By the time David had reached the end of the song, the Mandrake in Hilda's arms was fast asleep, snoring peacefully. Creeping on her tiptoes, she walked over to the nearest pot and gently placed the Mandrake into it, covering it back up with the soil.

A minute later, all of the Mandrakes were put away, and the earmuffs were removed. The Hufflepuff who had previously gone for the garden hoe now set it down, looking chastened. "I'll get Nurse Pomfrey," he said a little too loudly.

_"Shhh!"_

"Oh!" the boy said, before lowering his voice. _"Sorry,"_ he whispered, before heading for the greenhouse door.

Hilda walked over to David and helped him down from the table. "How did you know?"

David rubbed the back of his head and blushed. "Well, I remembered how my younger cousin would throw a tantrum, and how my Aunt would sing her back to sleep. I figured these little guys were just cranky, so why shouldn't it work for them?"

Hilda pulled David into a hug. "You're amazing, David. Also, that spider is back on you."

* * *

Professor Sprout made a swift recovery once Nurse Pomfrey arrived with a bottle of smelling salts and a hip flask of fire whiskey. Having regained some color, she awarded David a hundred points for his quick thinking and gave the other students fifty points each for their teamwork. After taking another swig, she decided to double the points. David was picked up and carried out the greenhouse on the shoulders of his classmates, feeling slightly overwhelmed by the attention he was receiving.

The rest of the day was pretty easy. It wasn't until after dinner when she noticed the Snape and Lockhart moving the tables against the walls that Hilda realized she'd completely forgotten about the dueling club meeting.

"Excited?" David asked, sitting on one of the benches next to Hilda.

"I guess, even if we only get to watch." She looked over at David and smirked. "Where'd your groupies go?"

"Please don't," David said, laughing. "They Hufflepuffs wanted to throw a party, but I snuck out of the dorm before they could get organized."

Hilda and David watched as the hall filled students. Hilda saw Harry, Ron and Hermione and waved to them. Frida eventually emerged from the crowd and sat next to them, arms crossed. "Still protesting?" Hilda asked her.

"They're asking for trouble by not letting us participate," Frida grumbled.

"No one else seems to really mind," David said, pointing to a few other first-years.

Frida groaned. "Don't they see the danger we're in?"

"Some people just want to carry on like nothing happened," Harry said, expression darkening. "They don't want to admit there's something wrong."

_Sounds familiar._

"Quiet, you."

"What?" Frida asked.

"Uh, I meant, quiet, Lockhart and Snape are about to start."

Lockhart clapped his hands to get the students' attention. When that failed, Snape stepped forward and raised his wand and cast a bolt of lightning into the air with a deafening crack. Everyone cringed from the noise directed their attention up to the Potions Master. "Now that we have your attention," Snape began, "Welcome to the first meeting of the Hogwarts Duelling club. As you all know, magic is capable of many amazing things, but it is also capable of great damage and chaos. In light of recent events, the Headmaster feels you should be made aware of the dangers you face, and in turn be instructed on how to counteract those dangers."

"Yes, thank you, Severus, for the introduction," Lockhart said, stepping forwards. "I myself know how important it is to know how to duel. Why, I remember once in Kenya when I was facing a local rogue medicine man—"

Snape turned to the rambling professor and raised his wand. _"Depulso."_ The spell struck Lockhart mid-monologue, lifting him off his feet and throwing him ten feet backward.

After regaining his breath, Lockhart sat up and gave a weak smile. "Of course, one of the first rules in dueling is to never let your guard down. Excellent work, Severus."

"My pleasure," Snape replied, holstering his wand.

Lockhart got to his feet. "Well, now that we've given a demonstration we would like two volunteers to practice. Let's see...Snape, how about I choose one and you choose one." Snape nodded in agreement. "I nominate Harry Potter." Harry frowned when his name was called, but reluctantly climbed onto the dueling platform.

"A curious choice," Snape noted, giving the boy a sour look. "Very well, my turn." He scanned the crowd for a moment before homing in on his target. "Draco, you look eager to start."

The Slytherin grinned and pushed his way through the crowd. Getting onto the platform, he smirked at Harry. "Scared, Potter?"

"You wish," Harry replied.

"Ah, a little good-natured banter," Lockhart said, clapping his hands. "Well, then. Let's have you both stand back to back, take ten paces, turn and-"

_"Everte statum."_

Just as like Lockhart before him, Harry was caught completely off guard. Fortunately, Lockhart was there to break his fall. Climbing off of the re-winded Defense professor, Harry scowled at Malfoy. The Slytherin only grinned. "Never let your guard down."

Harry responded with a knockback jinx, but Draco blocked it and countered with a stunning spell. This time, Harry saw it coming, and rolled out of the way, to the misfortune of Hilda, who was standing at the edge of the stage directly behind him.

* * *

_"Hilda!"_

Hilda blinked and looked up at the faces looking down at her. "Are you alright?" Frida asked. "How many fingers am I holding up?"

"I'm fine," Hilda sat up and looked around. "Where did everyone go? What happened to the duel?"

"The duel is over, Hilda," David replied as he was helping her up.

"What happened, then?"

"It's hard to say," Frida said, leading Hilda over to the nearest bench. "I'm not so sure what happened myself. Malfoy summoned a snake at Harry, which Lockhart tried to banish, but he only made it angry and it went for Justin."

"The Hufflepuff?"

David nodded. "But then Harry whispered something to the snake, and it stopped. Then everyone went crazy. Harry was hurried out quickly by the Gryffindors after that."

"Why was everyone upset? Harry saved Justin."

"It's _how_ he did it that got everyone excited," Frida said. "I don't know any more than that, but I expect we'll get a better idea when we go back to our houses and talk to the other students."

Hilda nodded. "Ok, I guess I'll see you guys tomorrow."

* * *

Hilda climbed through the portrait hole just as Harry was being grilled by Hermione and Ron.

 _"Why didn't you tell us you're a Parselmouth?"_ Ron demanded.

"What's a Parselmouth?" Hilda asked.

Three heads turned towards her. "This is a private conversation, Hilda," Ron snapped.

"Ron, don't be a prat!" Hermione hissed.

Harry sat up. "I'd actually like to know the answer as well, Ron."

Ron sighed and beckoned Hilda over to them. "A Parselmouth is a wizard that can talk to snakes," he explained.

"Okay, I can talk to snakes, so what?"

"So what? Only dark wizards speak Parselmouth!"

Hermione snorted. "That's not true, Ron. Plenty of famous wizards knew how to speak to snakes. Merlin, Copernicus, John Dee…"

"And He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named," Ron added. "My dad told me during the war he had a pet snake that he used to squeeze enemies to death."

"Why don't you just call him Voldemort?" Hilda asked.

Ron flinched at the name, as did several other students within earshot. "Bloody hell, Hilda. You can't just call him that."

"Why not? What is so scary about the name Voldemort that everyone is afraid to say it?"

"Because it's a taboo," the four students glanced over at Neville, who had stood up from his chair. "He had a curse placed on it."

"Voldemort cursed his own name?" Hilda asked.

"Stop saying it!" Ron hissed.

Neville nodded. "Anytime someone said it, it gave away their general location to the Dark Lord's men. He figured that anyone who didn't fear his name didn't fear him, and therefore they should be made an example of."

"Thanks, Neville, but back to the conversation," Ron continued. "The Dark Lord spoke Parselmouth, and so did Salazar Slytherin."

"Harry, if you speak Parselmouth, and so could Slytherin, then think of what this means to some people."

Harry's eyes widened. "They think I'm the Heir of Slytherin?"

"Well, of course, we don't," Ron said, "but Fred and George have started running odds on who it is, and let's just say you're doing pretty well at the moment."

Harry put his hands over his face. "Oh, Merlin. The entire school is afraid of me, and Fred and George are placing bets."

"Well, technically, they're only running the operation. If you _aren't_ the Heir then they're set to win a lot, so really they're counting on your innocence."

"Which is all the more a reason to get into the Slytherin dormitory," Harry said.

"When should we do it?" Hilda asked.

"Christmas break," Harry said. "That's when we have the best chances of getting away with it. Fewer witnesses."

"But I'll be home for Christmas!" Hilda whined. "Wait, Harry, why aren't you going home?"

Harry cringed. "My relatives don't particularly care to see me, so I stay here."

"Well, you can't be here all alone."

"I'm not alone! I have Ron and Hermione."

"Well, I don't think it would be safe to stay in the castle over the break when there's a monster running around the school. The fewer students, the higher the chance that one of you will be the next to get petrified."

Hermione nodded in agreement. "She does have a point."

"This entire thing was your idea, and you want to postpone it?" Ron asked in disbelief.

"I can admit my mistakes sometimes."

"Then admit that Lockhart is a fraud."

"...Well, I'm sure he knows what he's doing to _some_ degree."

Hilda took Harry's hand. "If your family doesn't want you, you can spend the holidays with me and my mum."

"I'd need to get my uncle and aunt to sign a permission form," Harry explained. "And I think only a miracle would get them to do so."

Hilda grinned. "Well, then it sounds like they've never met anyone like my mum."

* * *

When she'd first moved to Trolberg Hilda had trouble adapting to the sprawl and business of the city. One of her common complaints was how every city street looked the same. Johanna told Hilda that just as every rock, tree or mountain was different, so was every house, every door, every street. It had helped Hilda think of the city not as a bland, dreary place but as something unique and special. Of course, the unexpected menagerie of magical creatures had also won her over, but that's beside the point. The point is that looking at Privet Drive, Johanna was glad they hadn't moved to somewhere like Privet Drive. Hilda would never have let her hear the end of it.

Johanna didn't much care for it herself. Everything was _perfect_. Each house was as perfect and uniform as the houses on each side of it. Perfect gardens, perfect paint, perfect cars parked in perfect drives. And no house was more perfect than Number 4, the Dursley residence. Johanna was reminded of a song a friend of hers had played ad nauseam at her university cafe's open-mic nights.

 _"Little boxes made of ticky-tacky and they all look just the same,"_ she sang quietly to herself as she walked up the perfect front walk to the perfect front door and knocked the perfect brass knocker twice gently.

The door was answered by a woman of all sharp angles, a frown seemingly etched into her sharp face. "Can I help you?" she asked.

Johanna held out a hand, "Hello, my name is Johanna Dahl. You must be Petunia Dursley. Might I come in?"

"Are you selling something?" she asked, eyes narrowed.

"No, I'd like to talk to you about your nephew, Harry."

Petunia's frown grew deeper. "Are you one of _them_?" she asked.

"I don't know who you're referring to," Johanna replied, giving a frown of her own. "My daughter goes to school with your nephew, and I'd like to talk to you about—" before she could finish her sentence the door was slammed in her face.

Johanna liked to think of herself as a relaxed person. She had to be, with all of the adventures her daughter had a knack for getting herself into. But she felt her temper rising. Grabbing the knocker, she hammered a half-dozen times. The door opened again. This time, a walrus of a man stood before her, his face red. "You must be Mr. Dursley," she said, a fake smile plastered on her face. "Pleased to meet you."

"Go away!" the man hissed. "We do not want your type here."

"My _type_?" Johanna asked innocently. "Are you talking about _wizards_?"

She raised her voice just loud enough that the woman trimming the hedges next door turned and gave her and Mr. Dursley a curious glance. Vernon's face turned purple, and he quickly stepped aside. "Come in, then," he growled. "Before you make a scene."

 _"Perish the thought,"_ Johanna said as she entered the house.

They moved back to the kitchen, where Mrs. Dursley stood, a freshly-poured mug of tea in her hands. "You let her _in_?" Petunia asked in disbelief.

"Is that for me?" Johanna plucked the mug from the woman's hands and gave a sip. "How kind. You certainly know how to treat your guests."

Petunia looked as though she were about to have a stroke, but managed to restrain herself. "Alright, Ms. Dahl, you have our attention. What do you want?" she asked. "Did Dumbledore send you?"

"The Headmaster?" Johanna asked. "Oh, no. My daughter Hilda sent me. She has made friends with Harry, and wants to have him over to our house in Trolheim."

"And why does this involve us?" Petunia asked through clenched teeth. "Why do you have to walk in and tell the whole neighborhood about the boy and his _disorder_."

"Steady on," Johanna said, raising her hands. "Magic is not a disorder. If anything, it's a gift. If your own child was a wizard, would you treat him so cruelly?"

"Our Duddums is perfectly normal, thank you very much," Vernon replied in indignation. "If anything, he is the perfect specimen of a normal, healthy boy.

The kitchen door was kicked open, letting in a corpulent boy who didn't even bother to wipe his muddy feet on the mat. "Mum, where're the crisps?"

"That's your son?" Hilda asked. She didn't say it, but the boy could stand to lay off the crisps.

"Hello, Duddums," Petunia cooed, pinching the boy's cheek. "What have you done today?"

"Piers showed me this garden someone had planted in the woods behind the greengrocers. We did some weeding."

"My, how kind of you! I'm sure Ms. Hollywell will be very grateful," Petunia replied. Dudley only smirked before running into the living room and turning on the TV set.

"I take it that's your son?" Johanna asked. "He seems pleasant."

"He's a good, normal young man," Vernon boasted, smiling. "Not like your kind," he added.

Johanna rolled her eyes and fumbled through her bag. "Look, as much as I'd like to stay and watch the rest of this show, I just need your signature on this document allowing Harry to spend Christmas with my family."

"Is that all?" Vernon asked suspiciously. Johanna gave him the document to inspect. "Why can't you lot use paper and pen like normal people," he grumbled as he read it, but he evidently found it acceptable. "Alright, I'll sign if it gets you out of my hair."

"Thank you kindly," Johanna said. She watched Vernon sign. "You also need to sign here," she said, turning the page. "And here. And initial there."

"Awfully thorough document," Vernon growled.

"Well, my daughter's elf friend taught me an appreciation for proper paperwork."

"Nutters, the lot of you," Vernon finished and pushed the papers back into Johanna's arms. "There, you've got what you wanted, now leave."

"I will. Let me say it was very terrible to meet you," Johanna said before turning and making for the front door, leaving Mr. Dursley and his wife fuming.

Johanna shut the front door behind her and took a deep breath to steady her temper. She looked over at the rose beds by the picture window and was contemplating setting them on fire when she spotted a trail of tiny footprints leading from across the perfect lawn and around the corner of the house.

There, she found three strange, onion-headed creatures stacked atop one another's shoulders, the uppermost one peering through the kitchen window, a spear at his side.

 _"Psst!"_ They turned in surprise, losing their balance and falling into a heap by the trash bins. The spear-wielding Vittra jumped up first and brandished its spear at her, growling. Johanna raised her hands placatingly. "Wait! You're after the whale boy, right? He trampled your garden?" The spear-wielding Vittra gestured to his bent and torn head-stalk and nodded. Johanna smiled. "Thought so. The back door's unlocked."

The Vittra gave a knowing grin. "Thanks, lady."

"Gladly," Johanna replied before turning around and walking back to her rental car, her whistle masking the ensuing screams behind in her wake.

_There's a green one_

_And a blue one_

_A_ _nd a red one_

_And a yellow one_

_And they're all made out of ticky-tacky_

_And they all look just the same."_


	14. The Lonely Island

Johanna stood with the other Trolheim parents in the parking lot of the Sparrow Scout lodge. A light snow was falling, counter to Victoria Van Gale's predictions. The meteorologist had lost her magic touch after the destruction of her laboratory. Johanna knew why, but knew better than to share the information. The woman may have been foolish capturing the weather spirit and attempting to manipulate the elements for hubris and ratings, but she wasn't evil, and her reputation didn't deserve to be ruined due to a single error in judgement.

The portkeys arrived at ten o'clock exactly. Children, most of them slightly green from the unpleasant sensation of traveling in such a fashion, steadied their stomachs before running to their parents. Johanna saw Hilda and Harry saying their goodbyes to David and Frida and waved to get their attention.

"Mum!" Hilda jumped into her arms, "I've missed you."

"But you've been having fun, I've heard," Johanna replied. "Getting into adventures and making friends, you can't have missed me _too_ much. Hello, Alfur. How're your reports coming along?"

"Very well, thank you," Alfur said from his perch behind Harry's left ear. "The elves back home are thrilled with them. They can't get enough."

"Glad to hear that. Hello, Harry, it's so nice to see you again."

Harry looked unsure of himself, but smiled at the woman. "Thanks for inviting me, Ms. Dahl," Harry said. "I'm sorry you had to deal with the Dursleys on my behalf. Did they give you any trouble? They don't really like magic that much."

"If anything, I may have given them some trouble," Johanna said, smirking. "Seems a tribe of Vittra trashed their house last week; they're spending Christmas in a hotel."

Harry grinned. "Thanks."

"No problem, now, you all have your luggage? My car's over here."

* * *

Johanna had purchased a new car. Gone was the old beige sedan, replaced by a large British all-terrain vehicle, its tires and undercarriage already speckled in mud.

As they drove, Hilda pointed out the local sights and monuments. "That's the statue of the town's founder, Edmund 'The Troll-Slayer' Ahlberg. He built the walls around the city to keep the trolls out."

"I met a troll last year at school," Harry said. "I can see why they built a wall to keep them out."

"Our Trolls aren't the same as your Scottish mountain trolls, Harry," Johanna said from the front seat. "They're made of stone and only come out at night. In the daytime they're just regular boulders stuck in the place where they stood at sunrise.

"They're not even dangerous," Hilda added. "They're just misunderstood."

"All creatures are misunderstood in your mind, Hilda," Johanna pointed out.

"Well, they are!"

Johanna chuckled, "I'm only teasing you, luv."

Hilda watched the street signs. "Uh, mum," she said as the street sign for Moomintroll Terrace came and went, "You missed our street."

"Oh, I sold the house," Johanna replied, hiding her grin.

"What? We moved _again_?" her mother nodded. "Well then where are we going?"

Johanna gave her an enigmatic smirk. "You'll see."

They passed through the city gate and were soon in the wilderness. At first, Hilda believed that her mother had rebuilt the old house in the valley, but they kept going, up and down the twisting roads of the fjords. At one point, the tarmac ended, and as the SUV rattled alone the deeply rutted path, she understood why her mother had purchased the Range Rover.

The woods closed in around them, and stags were spotted along the roadside, watching them pass from the treeline. Finally, their path was halted by a large stone wall and an iron gate, the name 'Dahl' writ large above the portal. Johanna got out and pushed the heavy gates aside, and they drove it. "What is this?" Hilda finally asked.

They rounded a bend in the road, and Johanna pulled the SUV to a stop. "Welcome to Dahl Manor," she said.

Dahl Manor sat at the edge of the cliffside, its solid stone walls, high battlements, and narrow windows providing more than adequate defense against both the North Sea storms and marauding Vikings. About a half-dozen chimneys sprung from the structure, and a stone tower sat high above the roofline, no doubt offering 360-degree views going for miles in fine weather.

"What do you think?" Johanna asked.

"It's amazing," Hilda replied.

Johanna smiled. "Your grandad sure is full of surprises, isn't he?"

They walked to the front door and entered. After shedding their coats in the dark, chilly hall, they passed through a sturdy oak door into a warm, cozy kitchen. The appliances were antique but well-made. Someone had installed electric lighting, the dim thirty-watt incandescent bulbs casting a warm glow throughout the room. A cast-iron stove burned pleasantly in the corner, a tea kettle warming on its stovetop. The table by the fire was set for three.

Johanna walked over to the stove and pulled out a roast pan. "Smells like we're in for an excellent dinner."

"Wait, if you were picking us up, then who made it?" Hilda asked.

"I did," a nasally voice said. Harry glanced down and jumped back in surprise. A small creature stood before him, dressed in a brown turtleneck sweater. Its face was concealed by a large mop of brown hair, save its bulbous nose. A long, thin tale snaked out from under the sweater, its end capped in a little brown puffball.

"Tontu!" Hilda cried, and pulled the creature into a hug. "I'm so glad to see you!"

"You're crushing me," the Tontu complained. Hilda released him and he staggered back. "But it's nice to see you too, Hilda," he said as he smoothed his sweater.

"Harry, this is Tontu. Tontu, Harry."

"Hello," Harry shook Tontu's hand. "Sorry to be rude, but what are you?"

"I'm a Nisse," Tontu replied. "A house spirit."

"Every house has a house spirit," Hilda explained. "They live in the Nowhere Space: the place in every house or building where lost things end up."

"You ever wondered where your remote went?" Tontu asked. "Or that extra sock? They turn up in Nowhere Space."

"So, if there's a Nisse in every house, how come I've never seen one before?"

"Nisse are generally distrusted by humans," Johanna explained. "The owner of a house has the ability to throw a Nisse out of their residence, so the Nisse tend to keep a low profile."

Hilda scowled. "People think that because all of their lost items end up in the Nisse's homes, then the Nisse must be thieves."

Tontu nodded his head. "We are of course mostly completely innocent."

" _Mostly?_ " Harry raised an eyebrow.

"Well, I mean, sometimes—who's hungry?"

"Don't change the subject, Tontu," Johanna said, but she smiled. "But the meal looks excellent, thank you."

* * *

After dinner, Hilda and Harry went off on their own to explore the house.

They doubled back through the kitchen and into the sitting room. Here, the antique furniture had been cleared away and replaced with items from Hilda's old house in Trolberg, including the comfy sofa and chairs, the TV set, and the record player. Behind the sofa sat an upright piano that, upon closer inspection, was charmed to play by itself.

Through a set of double pocket doors was the library, its floor-to-ceiling shelves groaning under the weight of its contents. A large writing desk occupied a corner of the room, its surface covered in parchments, ink bottles, quills, and atop all else a mid-century-style typewriter, a fresh page inserted into the carriage.

"Frida would love this room," Hilda remarked.

Harry nodded, "So would Hermione."

Alfur chuckled. "We'd never get them to leave."

"You're interrupting my reading."

Hilda and Harry turned to find someone sitting by the fire in a high-backed chair. It was a small creature, carved out of oak, its mouth frozen in a look of surprise, or was it exasperation? It snapped the book in its lap closed and stood up.

"Woodman!" Hilda said, smiling. "What are you doing here?"

"I come here often," the Woodman said, pointing to an unlatched window on the opposite side of the room. "I didn't know this was your house."

"It was my grandfather's."

"I see. I thought this was my house."

Hilda crossed her arms. "Well, it isn't. You're welcome to drop by whenever you want."

"Did I need your permission?" the Woodman asked. He returned his book to its place on the shelves and brushed past the two children. "I can't concentrate. I'll come back when you're asleep."

Harry watched the creature leave. "What is that?"

"He's the Woodman, the Spirit of the Woods. Mum won't be too pleased to know he's made himself at home."

Crossing the entry hall, they found the drawing room. With its heavy leather-backed chairs, its billiard table, and its cigar humidor, it was the quintessence of a man cave. Against one wall was a locked gun-case filled with antique hunting rifles and shotguns. Evidently, the prior owners took great fun in sports-shooting, as everywhere else in the room the spoils of their labors were on full, gruesome display. Deer antlers and wolf-pelts lined the walls, and above the fireplace was the stuffed head of a salt lion, its face molded into a fearsome snarl.

Johanna found them there and noticed Hilda's disgust with the trophies. "Yeah, not the best room of the house. We need to get that stuff into the attic as soon a possible. I was going to offer them to Tontu, but he can't stand to look at them either."

"It's awful," Hilda said, frowning up at the salt lion. "Grandad studied magical creatures. How could he hunt them?"

"I don't think he did." Harry gestured to the nameplate underneath the salt lion's head: _Magnus Dahl, 1911._

"Your grandfather wasn't the only Dahl that lived here," Johanna pointed out. "The house has belonged to the family for centuries. Your grandfather grew up here with his father, Count Magnus Dahl. He wasn't a nice man, from what dad told me. He left home for Hogwarts and didn't come back until long after Count Magnus had died."

"Where were you?" Hilda asked.

"I left home for university, then when your gran died, he leased the house in the valley and lived alone out here until he went off and disappeared." Johanna sighed at the memory. "I didn't see him again."

Through a set of french doors was a long, glassed-in terrace that looked out over the North Sea. Hilda looked up through the glass roof and frowned. "Mum, there's a light on in the tower."

Johanna and Harry craned their necks up to look. "Where?"

"I just saw a candle flickering up in one of the windows," Hilda said, pointing.

"Well, there's nothing there now," Johanna replied. "Maybe it was just the moon reflecting off the window."

"Or maybe it was a ghost," Harry suggested.

Hilda looked back up at the dark tower and frowned. "I know what I saw. Someone's up there."

"There can't be," Johanna said, "the tower stairs are in your grandad's room. I tried going up there when I first moved in, but the lock on the door didn't match any of the keys."

Johanna took them upstairs and showed them the door to Rasmus's room. Hilda tried the knob, then cast an unlocking spell, but the lock held firm. She looked up at her mother, who shrugged. "I don't know what to tell you."

"That doesn't make any sense."

"Well, if anyone can solve the mystery, it's you," Johann said, smiling. "Now c'mon. Let's teach Harry a game of Dragon Panic and go to bed."

They went back downstairs, leaving the locked door to be addressed another day.

* * *

The next morning, Hilda suggested they explore the property. Johanna made them a sack lunch and sent them off. "Just make sure you're back by dinner," she called after them.

They found a dirt path at the edge of the woods and followed it in. It led them along the cliffs, the sound of the waves pounding the rocks drowning out any attempts at conversation. Hilda stopped to throw some sandwich crumbs to the puffins. Within no time, they had a small line of the little birds waddling behind them. After a mile, they turned towards the woods. Hilda was glad she'd found a map in the library before they'd left. It had been charmed to show their location with a big red 'You Are Here' Arrow. "Something like that would come in handy at Hogwarts," Harry noted.

Eventually, they found their path blocked by a yew hedge. They went around it, only to find it was planted in a perfect circle. Hilda strained to look through the trees and caught a glimpse of stone. "There's something in there," she said. "If only we could get through."

" _Diffindo,_ " the cutting spell carved the beginnings of a path before them. Harry twirled his wand and grinned. "I'll lead."

They chopped their way through the yews, eventually emerging in a large circular clearing about five-hundred feet in diameter. At the center of the clearing was another circle, this one of large, upright-standing rocks, surrounding a hole in the ground. Hilda was about to investigate when Alfur tugged at her scarf. "Hilda! Don't cross the stone line; this is a fairy circle."

Hilda pulled her foot back just an inch from the line. "What happens if she crosses it?" Harry asked.

"Fairy circles are portals between our world and the world of the Fey," Alfur explained. "Once you cross into the circle you cannot leave without a fey's permission, and the Fey were more inclined to have some 'fun' with you first."

" _Were?_ " Harry asked.

"They Fey died out hundreds of years ago," Hilda said. "Surely nothing would happen if I went in, then?"

"I wouldn't want to find out," Alfur said, looking at the circle and shivering. Twig approached the line cautiously and gave it a sniff. He leapt back, hackles raised, and growled. "This is a bad place," Alfur said. "That yew hedge was probably planted to keep people out."

"Or to keep something in," Hilda said, looking at the hole in the center of the circle.

"I'm not so sure about that," Alfur replied. "Just as you need a Fey's permission to leave a fairy circle, the Fey need a human's permission to enter our world."

Hilda frowned and searched around for a pebble. Finding one, she wound up her arm and tossed it into the pit. She put a hand to her ear, listening for the sound of it hitting the bottom, but it never came. After about a minute of silence, Hilda shrugged. "Guess no one's home," Harry said, chuckling nervously. "Let's go."

They turned to leave. As they entered the yew hedge, something whizzed past Harry's ear and bounced off a tree trunk. The pebble fell and rolled to stop at Hilda's feet. She shared a wide-eyed glance with Harry. A moment later, they took off running.

* * *

After putting a good distance between themselves and the fairy circle, they emerged from the woods and into a rocky stretch of ground, leading towards a high promontory a mile in the distance.

"It's called Lightning Rock," Hilda said, pointing to the name on the map, then to the high rock. "From the top you can see for miles in all directions on a clear day."

Alfur looked up at the overcast skies. "Not sure how far we'll see today."

Hilda shrugged. "I still want to see what's up there."

They set off. Although the ground rose gently at first, it soon grew steeper and steeper. Eventually, they were climbing from handhold to handhold. Twig bounded ahead of them like a mountain goat, occasionally stopping high above them to give a look of disdain as if to say _'try to keep up'_.

As they were about halfway up the slope, a crack of lightning struck the summit, throwing rocks down the hillside. They took cover, then looked up in awe. "Maybe we should head back," Harry suggested.

"I want to see where it came from," Hilda replied.

"It came from the sky."

"No, it was sent up to the sky and bounced back; it came from there." Hilda pointed to a ledge no more than fifty feet above them.

"I'd rather not," Harry said.

Alfur nodded in agreement "I agree with Harry, maybe we should turn back."

A second later, a snowflake fell, settling on the rock at Hilda's side. This was followed by two more, than four more. Within thirty seconds it was snowing pretty heavily, and visibility was dropping.

"Do you want to climb back down in this mess or go up and wait out the storm?" Hilda asked.

"Alright, but you first."

By the time they reached the ledge, it was in white-out conditions. Beyond the ledge was an opening, just wide enough to squeeze through. Hilda peered in. "There's a breeze coming out; that means there's another entrance."

They made their way through in the dark, hands fumbling against the walls. Eventually, they came out into a large cavern, on the opposite side of which was a jagged opening big enough for an elephant to fit through.

It was at the center of the cavern, however, that caught their attention. "That's a big nest," Harry said.

As they watched, a large dark form rose from among the sticks and branches, then spread its wings wide. _**"Who dares disturb the All-Powerful Great Raven?"**_ It boomed. It then recognized the blue-haired girl standing before it. "Oh, hi, Greta."

"Hilda," she corrected.

"Right," With a flash of light, the giant bird shrunk down until he was the size of a regular raven and flew over to land on a ledge at eye-level with the kids. "How'd you find my lair?"

"We followed your lightning."

"Lightning? Oh, yeah, I have a cold. Sometimes I accidentally shoot off a bolt when I sneeze. Speaking of which, duck." With that, the Raven let out a massive sneeze, shooting electricity all over the cavern. "Sorry."

"You live here?" Hilda asked, picking herself up and looking around the cave.

"It's not much, but it's home," the Great Raven replied.

"I bet. Harry, this is the Great Raven, also known as the Thunderbird. I saved his life once."

Harry shook his head. "You have the strangest friends."

"Let me give you the grand tour." The Raven hoped down to the floor and walked over to the nest. "This is my boudoir. I wove some stolen clothes into the branches for extra insulation on these cold winter nights. Over here is my shiny collection," he led them over to a wall covered in bits of mirror, tin foil, and candy wrappers. "And over here is my million-dollar view."

It was a spectacular view. By now the blizzard had calmed to a gently if heavy snowfall. The ocean churned against the breakers and the cliff, shooting spray up through the opening. Harry noticed something in the distance. "What's that out there?" he asked.

Through the snow, an island could be seen about five miles out to sea. Hilda looked down at the map. "It says here it's part of our property, but it gives no name, only a warning: _Here be monsters._ "

Harry looked out at it. "If only we could get a closer look."

The Great Raven nodded. "If only we could fly." He gave a start. "Oh! I can fly!" He smiled and shifted into his giant form. "Hop on, we'll take a little trip."

* * *

It wasn't quite like riding a broom, Harry thought, but riding a giant raven gave certainly was more fascinating. Hilda held on to his shoulders as the Raven rose and fall with the ocean currents, squinting her eyes through the oncoming snow. "We're almost there," the Raven said, beating his wings harder. "For some reason, the headwind is getting stronger the closer we get."

They could make out the island now. It was really just a chunk of rock, devoid of vegetation, and occupied by a stout, menacing stone castle.

"Do you think it's occupied?" Harry asked.

"I see smoke rising from the chimney," the Raven said. "But no lights in the windows."

It was then that Hilda felt a sharp twinge in her gut. _Uh oh_ , the Voice said.

 _What just happened?_ Hilda asked.

_We passed through a set of wards. Very,_ _ very _ _strong wards._

_What kind of wards?_

_The kind that alerts something to our location._

Hilda was about to ask what the Voice meant by 'something' when _something_ appeared fifty feet in front of them. The Raven stopped short and hovered in place as he appraised the creature. "That's not good," he muttered.

The creature was tall and spindly thin, and glad in a ragged cloak. It raised a boney, rotting hand and pointing at the intruders accusingly. "What is that?" Harry asked.

"Dementors," Alfur replied in a hushed whisper.

"What?"

"Whatever it is, it has company," The Raven said.

Hilda swiveled her head around. More of the creatures had appeared and surrounded them on all sides. As the children watched in horror, the creatures began to advance.

Harry gave a gasp and clutched at his scar, moaning. Just as Hilda was about to ask what was wrong, it hit her. A devastating cold that filled her entire body, nearly stopping her heart.

_I trusted you! I loved you!_

_I loved you too, but I can't let you leave here alive._

_Then we'll die together._

Hilda shook her head, scattering the mysterious memories to the winds. "Raven, get us out of here!" she shouted.

The Raven dove, Hilda and Harry holding on for dear life as they fell towards the ocean before leveling out feet above the waves. They flew back towards the house, but when Hilda turned her head, she saw the creatures in hot pursuit and gaining.

Harry was still moaning, muttering something unintelligible in the wind. "Harry!" Hilda shook him. "You're having a nightmare! Snap out of it!" Harry swayed and then went into a faint, rolling off the Raven's back and plummeting towards the sea. "Raven!"

"I'm on it!" The Raven flew down and grabbed Harry in his talons inches from the water. By that time the creatures were nearly upon them. The Raven flapped his wings, unleashing a burst of thunder that struck each of the creatures, staggering them. But, to Hilda's horror, they seemed to just shrug it off, and continued to advance.

 _Hilda, I need you to trust me._ The Voice whispered. _Give me control._

"How will I know you'll give it back?" Hilda asked.

 _This isn't about the control,_ the Voice said, its tone fearful. _This is about saving us from a fate worse than death. Now let me out._

Hilda took a deep breath and shut her eyes. When they opened, they glowed a fierce blue. She aimed it at the nearest creature. **_"Lumostella."_**

A blast of blinding white light shot from the wand, striking the creature full in the chest. With an ear-shattering, bestial scream, the creature exploded, its tattered cloak blowing off in the wind. The other creatures turned and fled back towards the castle.

"What happened?" Alfur asked, looking up at Hilda.

"I killed it," Hilda muttered before blacking out.

* * *

She woke up in her bedroom at Dahl Manor. Sitting up, she looked around in confusion. Her head ached and the cold permeating her bones was still there, despite the multiple layers of blankets and the roaring fire in the fireplace. Twig looked up from his spot at the foot of the bed and bounded over, happily licking her face. "I'm alright, Twig," Hilda said, patting the deerfox. She gave a shiver. "I think."

Climbing out of bed, she put on a robe and went out into the hall, as she made her way down the stairs, she began to hear fragments of conversation coming from the drawing room.

 _"What I'd like to know is what your daughter and her friend were doing trespassing on Ministry property,"_ an unfamiliar man's voice said.

 _"No,"_ Johanna's voice cut the man off, her tone short and frustrated. _"I'd like **you** to tell me what a maximum-security prison is doing on my family's property."_

_"Ms. Dahl, your grandfather Count Magnus signed a thousand-year lease with the Ministry of Magic granting us the use of Azkaban for the aforementioned purpose. It's all completely legal and filed in the Ministry archive."_

_"We could have been warned. My daughter and her friend were nearly killed by those… those_ things."

_"The Dementors were only defending the prison from intruders."_

_"They didn't even ask questions or give a warning,"_ the Raven said. _"They just attacked."_

_"...Did that bird on your shoulder just talk?"_

_"No,"_ Johanna and the Raven replied in unison.

_"...Well, in any case, the Dementors aren't known to ask questions before attacking. As I mentioned, your daughter and her friend were in Azkaban airspace and were therefore identified as an explicit threat. I'm afraid in an instance such as that the only solution for the Dementors is the Kiss."_

Hilda pushed open the drawing-room door and walked in. Seated on the arm one of the leather chairs was an older man in a green pinstripe suit. Opposite him, Johanna stood, leaning against the billiards table, and stared at the man with a look of intense loathing. The Raven perched on her shoulder looked equally grumpy. They all turned and caught sight of Hilda. "Hilda!" Johanna ran over and wrapped her daughter in a ferocious hug. "I'm so glad you're alright. The Raven brought you back, and I was so afraid. How are you feeling?"

"Cold," Hilda replied.

"I find chocolate is the best remedy for a Dementor encounter," the man said.

Johanna shot the man daggers, silencing him, before turning back to Hilda. "Hilda, this is Cornelius Fudge, the Minister of Magic. Apparently, the island you and Harry attempted to visit is a prison called Azkaban."

"And the creatures that attacked us were the guards. I heard you through the door." Hilda turned and frowned at the Minister. "Why would you hire monsters to guard a prison?"

"I don't see why that should concern a girl of your age," Fudge replied.

"Answer the question," Johanna growled.

"Very well. We found that human guards proved…all too human, if you'll pardon the expression. The Dementors are immune to bribery or threat, are nearly un-killable, and have the added bonus of sucking the joy out of anyone within a certain radius."

"That's horrible!" Hilda exclaimed. "Why would that be a bonus?"

"Miserable prisoners are generally too miserable to escape," Fudge answered. "In the time since we've brought in the Dementors, there hasn't been a single escape from Azkaban."

"I don't care how successful they are at their job," Johanna said. "They almost killed my daughter."

Fudge gave a dry chuckle. "Look, if you want to ask a Dementor for an apology then by all means do. I'm quite interested in seeing their response."

"I meant from the Ministry."

"If anything, Ms. Dahl, the Ministry could file charges against your daughter and her friend for trespassing. Such a blatant disregard for Ministry law could lead to expulsion from Hogwarts, or worse."

"Are you threatening me?" Johanna asked, face draining of color.

"I'm merely pointing out the legal consequences of your daughter's actions."

"Ms. Dahl?" The door opened again, and Harry shuffled in, deep circles under his eyes. "I was wondering if there were more blankets. I can't seem to get warm."

Upon catching sight of the boy, Cornelius's eyes went wide as galleons. "Harry Potter!" He leapt to his feet. "My dear boy, I'm so glad you are all right. The chill will fade, Mr. Potter, mark my words. Chocolate helps-would you like one? I have a few peppermint truffles in my pocket."

"You didn't offer me anything," Hilda said, sniffing.

"Ah, well, I only just remembered. Here you are, Miss Dahl."

"It would be rude to not offer your host one," Johanna said.

Fudge gave a helpless chuckle. "Yes, of course." He gave out his last truffle and turned back to Harry. "My boy, on behalf of the Ministry, I apologize for the behavior of our Dementors. They are in charge of guarding Azkaban— _that's the island you and your friend Miss Dahl were investigating—_ and they aren't very good at telling an innocent trespasser from a threat, you see. The Aurors shall have a, aaahhh, 'chat' with them at the nearest opportunity." Fudge gave an exaggerated glance at his wristwatch and whistled. "Oh dear, well, I must go. I have to file this incident through the appropriate channels. I must also see to the whereabouts of our missing Dementor. Harry, Miss Dahl, would either of you happen to know what may have happened to it?"

"I vaporized it with Dark Magic, Sir," Hilda replied deadpan.

For a moment Fudge was gravely silent. Then he gave a thin smile and chuckled. "Haha, very funny, Miss Dahl. Thank you for your time, Johanna. I shall see that your family receives the appropriate restitution for your troubles." With that, he threw a handful of Floo powder into the fireplace and practically dove through it headfirst.

Johanna turned to Hilda and cocked an eyebrow. "You _vaporized_ it?"

Hilda cringed. "Just a bad joke, mum."


	15. The Man in the Tower

After several hours in front of the living room fireplace and several mugs of Tontu's famous cocoa, the effects of the Dementor's attack had finally faded. Hilda shifted her mug in her hands. " _Are_ you alright, Harry?" she asked, turning to the boy sitting beside her on the sofa.

Harry nodded. "I think so. I just...those Dementors. When they were near us they gave me horrible memories."

"What kind of memories?"

Harry was silent for a few moments before continuing cautiously. "I heard my mum the night she died."

"Harry, I'm so sorry."

Harry scratched Twig behind the ears and gave a forced smile. "It's fine, Hilda. I don't really remember them. Something about the Dementors just overwhelmed me." He looked up from the fire. "Did you hear anything when the Dementors came for you?"

Hilda bit her lip. "I heard...something. A man and a woman fighting. I don't know who they were, or why it was important, but it made me feel the same way you did."

"Lucky you didn't pass out," Alfur said, glancing up from his paperwork. "Or we'd be done for."

"Do you think they'd have killed us?" Harry asked.

"They wouldn't have killed us," Alfur replied, shaking his head. "They would have done something far worse: _kissed us_."

Harry and Hilda shivered. "That sounds pretty awful."

"It is, and it's not just a normal kiss: they would have sucked the soul from your body, leaving you an empty shell. Not dead, but not alive, either."

"That's awful. I can't believe those things are just a few miles from here," Hilda said, looking towards the windows.

"Well, so long as they don't ever come near the house," Johanna said, entering the room with two more mugs of cocoa.

"What does a wizard have to do to get put in Azkaban?" Hilda asked.

"Whatever they've done, it must be awful. I wouldn't wish their fate on anyone, regardless of the crime." Johanna sat down next to Hilda. "I know this may be the last thing you'd do after this afternoon, but you are absolutely forbidden from going anywhere near that island."

Hilda shook her head. "I wouldn't go back there if you paid me to."

"That's my girl. Who's up for another game of Dragon Panic? You're getting quite good, Harry. This time you might have a chance of beating Hilda."

"That sounds like a challenge," Harry laughed.

* * *

That night, Hilda woke from a restless sleep. She checked the clock and tried to roll over, but her eyelids were refusing to fall, and the sheep were refusing to be counted. She got out of bed, tiptoed past Alfur's drawer and went downstairs to the kitchen. She poured herself a glass of milk and decided to take this time to explore the rest of the house. There were still about a dozen rooms she hadn't yet seen.

She chose the kitchen door opposite the one to the living room and opened it. The room she entered must have been the Great Hall, the original building from which the rest of Dahl Manor spread out from. It was massive, its ceiling twenty-foot high and supported by enormous solid log beams. A viewing gallery encircled the space, and from its railings hung old shields, battle-axes, tapestries, and banners. Above the roaring fireplace-big enough for Hilda to lie down in-was a banner bearing the Dahl family motto: _Pericula ludus._ The center of the room was dominated by a fireplace large enough to for her mother to parallel park the Land Rover. Hilda padded across the flagstone floor and stopped by the center of the table as something caught her eye.

A plate sat at the head of the table. On the plate were the half-eaten remnants of her mother's spaghetti dinner. Next to the plate was a half-empty goblet of wine and an ashtray. A cigarette was still burning in the tray.

Hilda looked around the shadow-strewn room. Suddenly every dark corner seemed inhabited, and a thousand eyes were watching here. "Hello?" she called out. "Tontu?" A creak sounded from the gallery above. Hilda's head swiveled up, just catching a shadowy silhouette stepping out of sight. Hilda drew her wand. "Who are you?" she asked. Her voice echoed off of the walls and ceiling. "What are you doing in our house?" There was no answer. _"Lumos."_

 _"Accio rug,"_ A voice whispered.

Before Hilda had a chance to identify the intruder, the oriental rug she was standing on was ripped out from under her, sending her crashing head-over-heels onto the floor. Her wand fell from her hand, rolling under the table. Footsteps ran around the gallery and through a door above, the slam echoing through the house. Hilda scrambled to her knees and searched under the table for her wand. As she did so, he hand brushed against something smooth and cold. She grabbed her wand, then shone it over the mysterious object.

It was a silver cigarette case, the initials of its owner engraved on the lid: _RED_. Satisfied with her find, and in no hurry to pursue the mysterious guest, she pocketed the case and went back to bed.

* * *

The days passed, and soon it was Christmas Eve. To celebrate, Johanna had invited Frida, David, and their parents to dinner, with the invitation to stay over. A further party was planned for Christmas Day, with the Weasleys, the Lovegoods, and the Grangers due to attend. Hilda had also insisted on inviting Professor McGonagall and Mr. Filch.

"You want _Filch_ at our party?" Harry asked, looking at Hilda as though she had three heads.

"He's really nice when you get to know him."

"I thought I already knew him."

Hilda shook her head. "You'd be surprised," she replied cryptically.

A trip was made to Diagon Alley for Christmas shopping. The three returned home that night, their arms full of presents, and entered the hall. "Alright, everyone to your rooms. I'll get the wrapping paper out."

"But we don't have a tree to put them under!" Hilda said.

"Then what's that?" Harry asked, pointing through the open living room door. Hilda and Johanna looked in and nearly dropped their packages in surprise.

A tree had been set up near the fire, its branches decorated with fairy lights and festooned with garlands and ornaments. The walls had been hung with pine branches and strings of cranberries, and several stockings had been hung on the fireplace mantle. "What on earth?" Johanna asked, walking into the room. "Who could have done this?"

"Quite the display, isn't it?" Tontu asked, walking into the room, chewing on a piece of toast.

"Did you do this?" Hilda asked.

The Nisse shook his head. "The old man did."

"Old man? What old man?"

If you could see Tontu's eyes, he'd be rolling them. "I don't know who he was, he just came in with the tree and decorated it. Then he left."

Johanna frowned. "I don't like the idea of strangers walking into our house, regardless of their intentions."

"It certainly isn't the worse thing," Hilda pointed out. "You don't see many burglaries where someone leaves things behind."

"Was it Santa?" Harry asked. "Is Santa _real_?"

Alfur shook his head. "Santa only comes out of hibernation on Christmas Eve."

"...Well, now I have a dozen more questions."

* * *

That night Hilda snuck next down the hall and knocked on Harry's door. " _Wuzzappnin?_ " Harry asked, rubbing his eyes as he walked out into the hall.

"We're doing a stakeout," Hilda said, handing him a flashlight.

"What? Why? Are we going after Santa?"

"It wasn't Santa who broke into our house," Hilda said. "Someone's been here with us, possibly since the day we got here."

"How do you know?"

Hilda told him about the intruder in the Great Hall and showed him the cigarette case. "We're going to catch him tonight," Hilda said. "And I think I know just where to start."

* * *

Somewhat anticlimactically, the door to Rasmus's room was unlocked when they reached it. Hilda pushed the door open, grimacing as the hinges squealed, then led the way in, clutching the cricket bat she'd found in the hall closet before her.

The bedroom was well-kept and obviously inhabited. A hotplate on the dresser was warming up a tea kettle, and the sheets on the bed were unmade. Hilda checked the toilet, finding nothing but shaving supplies and used towels. Next to the bedside was an overflowing ashtray. Hilda picked out one of the butts and compared it to the cigarettes in the case. "It's a match," she whispered.

A narrow, circular iron staircase led up to the tower above. Just as Johanna was about to step on the first riser, the sound of feet clanging down from above froze them in their tracks. "Hide!"

Harry and Hilda dove into the armoire opposite the bed. _"This is the second armoire we've been in together,"_ Harry mused.

 _"We've got to stop meeting like this,"_ Hilda whispered.

The footsteps reached the bottom of the stairs and padded softly across the carpet. Hilda pushed the dresser door open a crack and peered out. A white-haired man in a red dressing gown stood before the bed, his back to them. Hilda crept out of the dresser and swung the bat.

Harry heard a muffled crack, followed by a man's cry of surprise. He climbed out and found Hilda standing over the prone body of a bearded elderly man in a red outfit. Harry was about to ask if the man was dead when he gave a low moan and muttered something unrepeatable. "Did you just hit Santa with a cricket bat?" Harry asked.

"'Fraid not," Hilda said, lowering the cricket bat and looking sheepish. "I need you to get the first aid kit out of my bedroom. My grandad is going to need an ice pack."

* * *

After helping Rasmus Dahl into the armchair by the fire and applying ice to the growing lump on his head, Hilda fished his chocolate frog card from her coat pocket and compared the two. He'd aged considerably: the face was lined with more wrinkles, the dashing Van Dyke goatee had been replaced by a grandfatherly white beard, and his muscular frame was withered and hunched. In his red bathrobe, Hilda couldn't fault Harry for mistaking him for Father Christmas.

Harry returned from the hotplate with a cup of tea and handed it to the old man. Rasmus grunted in thanks and took a sip.

"You're not dead," Hilda finally spoke, hands on her hips.

"Not yet," Rasmus replied. His voice was low and growly, possibly the result of his cigarette habit. "You nearly did me in—great swing by the way."

"Thank you."

Rasmus sat up and looked Hilda over. "So you're my granddaughter, then. It's very nice to meet you. Last time I saw you up close, you were just a babe. And you're Harry Potter," he said, turning to the boy. "I knew your grandparents, your father, too, when he was just a boy. You look just like him." Harry smiled at the statement.

"Where have you been?" Hilda asked, trying to shift the conversation back down the right line of questioning.

"I've been here," Rasmus replied, gesturing to the room around him. "Here, there, everywhere."

"Everyone thinks you're dead," Harry said.

"My mum would be happy to know you're alive," Hilda pointed out. "Maybe I should go wake her."

"That won't be necessary," Rasmus said quickly. "She might not be as understanding as you."

"If you hadn't faked your death you wouldn't be in this mess," Hilda said. "Why did you do it?"

Rasmus sighed. "It's complicated, Hilda. Maybe when you're older, you would understand."

"Try me."

Rasmus chuckled. "You sound just like your mother. Johanna never took no for an answer." He settled back in his chair. "In my travels I met many interesting people and creatures. I made many friends, and a few enemies. After a while, those in the latter camp began to come looking for me. It was during my Scandinavian expedition that they sprung their trap. I barely got away with my life, but I knew that if I continued to carry on as I had before, the people I loved the most would become caught in the crossfire."

Hilda nodded. "So you disappeared to keep mum safe?"

Rasmus sighed. "It was not an easy decision to make. Goodness knows I wanted to watch you grow up, but no one could know I was alive, not even her."

"I don't understand why you couldn't at least write once in a while."

"That's why I said you'd understand it more when you're older. I did stick around, though. Once in a while, I went out to the old house in the valley and watched you from afar. I'm glad to see you've inherited my talent for adventure."

Hilda reached into her robe pocket and handed over the cigarette case. "You dropped this in the Great Hall the other night. I had a hunch it was you from the initials."

Rasmus took the case and smiled. "Clever girl." He looked up at the clock on the fireplace mantle. "It's getting late, you should go to sleep."

As they were leaving, however, Rasmus asked Hilda to stay behind. "Go ahead, Harry," Hilda said. "I'll be to bed in a bit." Harry nodded and returned to bed.

Rasmus led Hilda downstairs to a door Hilda had never noticed before. "Have you been to the portrait gallery yet?" Rasmus asked as he fished a key from his robe pocket. Hilda shook her head. "Good, then let me give you a tour."

The room inside was cold and windowless, and the smell of dust filled the air. Rasmus pulled his wand from his pocket and waved it at the wall sconces, lighting them to reveal the walls were filled to the brim with portraits. Hilda walked over to the nearest one and inspected it. "Why aren't they magical portraits?" she asked.

"I had them all frozen when I moved back here," Rasmus explained. "I never really liked talking to my family when they were alive, so why talk to them now?"

He led her over to a set of paintings over the fireplace. "That is my mother, Johanna," he said, gesturing to the one on the left. It was a beautiful woman, in her late teens, with a kind smile gracing her porcelain face. "I named your mother after her. And that is my father, Count Magnus."

The man in the portrait beside Johanna's was tall and gaunt, with cheekbones sharp enough to cut diamond and a gaze even sharper. He seemed to be gazing directly at Hilda with a look of contempt. "Mum said you didn't like him," Hilda remarked.

"I did not," Rasmus said, frowning up at the portrait. "I hated him, and he returned the sentiment in full. My mother died giving birth to me, and I that alone would have caused him to hate me, had I not also been born a squib."

"You were born a squib?"

Rasmus nodded. "Or, at least, everyone thought so. Even when I showed my magical ability at age eleven, I still managed to anger my father by going to Hogwarts."

"Wouldn't he have been happy?"

Rasmus sighed and shook his head. "The Dahls have always gone to Durmstrang, since time immemorial. Durmstrang is...rather different compared to Hogwarts. Our family has always dabbled on the wrong side of the magical spectrum. My father was accused of consorting with dark creatures, and of trying to raise the dead."

Hilda grimaced. "How awful."

"There has always been a darkness in the Dahl blood, Hilda," Rasmus said. "But you'd know that, wouldn't you?"

Hilda froze. "What?"

"Tell me something, Hilda. Is _She_ listening?"

_Always, Old Man._

Hilda nodded, attempting not to look her grandfather in the eye. Rasmus knelt down beside her. "Look at me, Hilda. Good, now listen carefully. She does not control you, and hopefully, she will never control you. Not if you fight her. She cannot be trusted, do you hear me?"

_I saved your life, Hilda. Remember?_

"She saved my life."

"She saved _Her_ life. Do not let her tell you otherwise. She lies. She always lies."

Hilda bit her lip, feeling the fear rising in her stomach. "What if I'm not strong enough? What if I have no choice?"

Rasmus shook his head. "You always have a choice. Promise me you will try to do what's right."

 _Worse than Dumbledore,_ the Voice muttered. _The Greater Good. Black and white, such a foolish human concept._

Hilda tried to push the Voice away and gave her grandfather a brave smile. "I promise."

_We'll see._

Rasmus nodded but didn't smile. _"Yes, we shall."_ He kissed Hilda's forehead. "Merry Christmas, Hilda. I'll see you tomorrow."

* * *

The next morning came with a foot of white snow that turned the landscape around Dahl Manor into a frosted wonderland. Hilda woke early and ran downstairs to the living room. It turned out she had been the last person to wake.

"Merry Christmas, Hilda," Johanna said. "We've been waiting for you."

Tontu appeared with a mug of cocoa and handed it to her. "No need to give me your gift: I already opened it."

"You opened _all_ of them," Johanna said sternly. Hilda noticed that most of the presents under the tree had had their wrapping torn off and then taped back together haphazardly. The Nisse shrugged half-apologetically before vanishing into the Nowhere Space behind the television set.

"He's lucky he's a good cook or he'd be out in the snow," Johanna muttered.

"Mum, be nice. It's Christmas."

Johanna smiled. "Of course. Let's open presents, shall we? We can start with the Weasleys' gifts; the owl post delivered them early this morning."

In what Harry explained was a Weasley tradition, the first presents they opened were hand-knitted jumpers. Hilda's was red, her name on the back in blue letters. A very small red jumper had even been knitted for Alfur, as well as a little one for Twig, who did not seem as enthused. "You'll have to be nice and wear it when Ron and his family come for dinner," Hilda said, pushing the sweater over the whining deerfox's antlers. Twig huffed hid under the sofa, presumably to die from the indignity of it all.

Johanna pulled hers on and laughed. "It's a little too big," she said, rolling up the long arms.

"Mrs. Weasley does one-size-fits-all," Harry explained. "Don't worry: Ron taught me a spell that'll adjust it just right."

Hilda gave her mother a photo of her, David and Frida at the Gryffindor/Slytherin Quidditch match. Hilda didn't mention that it had been one of the last pictures Colin Creevey had taken before his accident. Johanna gave her a pair of self-warming gloves and a new beret to replace the one that had been singed by Professor Lockhart.

Frida gave Hilda a new sketchbook and a handmade set of flashcards with exam-prep questions, as well as a copy of Rita Skeeter's new memoir, _You Can't Make This Stuff Up: Twenty Years of Conversations and Investigations._ David gave her a book on Troll behavior and a self-wrapping scarf.

Harry received a replica Golden Snitch from Hagrid that could be charmed to follow the owner around. Harry set it on Twig, who was chased out from under the couch and out of the room by the whirring golden ball, to everyone's amusement.

Luna Lovegood gave them a year's free subscription to the _Quibbler_ (this month's headline: _Loch Ness Monster sues photographers for breach of privacy_ ).

Alfur received a typewriter that Johanna had paid a shop-owner in Diagon Alley to shrink down to elf size (she'd raised a few eyebrows in the shop upon her request).

The final three gifts had names, but the name of the sender was ungiven. Johanna's box contained a set of charmed binoculars that could see up to a range of ten miles. Harry's gift was a guide on Dueling and defensive spells. Hilda's was a small, filigreed wooden box, inside of which was an iron key engraved with a cursive _R_. "Who do you think these were from?" Johanna asked.

Hilda smiled. "I think I can guess."

* * *

As Johanna, Alfur and Tontu prepared for the guests and Harry went to his room to change, Hilda ran up to Rasmus's room. Sure enough, the key fit the lock, and Hilda opened the door to find the room had been stripped of all personal possessions. The furniture was covered in dust sheets, and the fireplace looked as though it hadn't been used in years. Hilda walked over to the desk, but there was no note on its surface.

"He just left," Hilda said. "He lied."

 _He always lies_ , the Voice purred. Hilda's gaze fell on the empty crystal ashtray. Anger filled her, and she watched as it flew from the top of the desk and shattered against the wall.

Harry came running at the sound. "What happened?" he asked, standing in the doorway. He looked around. "Where's your grandfather?"

"Gone," Hilda said simply, before brushing past Harry and heading to her room.

* * *

Not much needs to be said about the party. It was cheery and festive and all of the other usual adjectives to describe a Christmas gathering. Hilda enjoyed herself, or at least gave the impression that she was. She taught Dragon Panic to Ron and Hermione, although Ron said he much preferred Wizard Chess. David and Frida filled her in on their vacation activities and marveled at Dahl Manor and its decorations. Filch and McGonagall made their appearances, and all of the students (save Hilda) failed to recognize the surly caretaker out of his disguise. "I guess Filch never showed up," Harry said as they were cleaning up. Hilda grinned but said nothing.

New Year's came and went as well, and then it was time for the kids to return to Hogwarts. At the portkey spot, Hilda gave Johanna the key to the tower. "So that's what it unlocked," Johanna said, smiling as she felt the key's weight in her palm. "What secrets did you find?"

"Nothing," Hilda said simply. "It's just a stuffy old bedroom. I didn't go up to the tower."

"Well, some mysteries just lead to mundane answers," Johanna replied before hugging her daughter. "Stay safe, please. Professor McGonagall warned me about the petrifications."

"It'll be alright, mum. Harry and I are on the case."

"That's just what I'm afraid of," Johanna said, frowning. "Please Hilda, let the teachers handle it. I'm afraid you'll just get hurt."

_Not with me by your side._

Hilda nodded, a sly smile quickly gracing her lips. "Don't worry, mum. _We'll_ be fine."


	16. Pen Pals

The minute they crossed through the castle threshold, Hilda and Harry were painfully reminded of the danger that lurked within the castle. Within the end of the first week, the Hufflepuff Muggleborn Justin Finch-Fletchley had been petrified along with Nearly Headless Nick. Harry had been fingered by many as the prime suspect. Despite the Weasley Twins' best attempts to even the odds, it currently stood at _**Potter 10:1, Malfoy 50:1.**_

Curfews had been enforced, meaning that Hilda rarely had the time to see David and Frida outside of classes and meals. It was probably just as well, as Frida's study program had reached a new level of intensity.

Trouble had also arisen in the Golden Trio's plot to infiltrate the Slytherin dormitory. The night after Justin and Nick's attack, Hermione stormed through the portrait hole in a huff, pulling off the Invisibility Cloak and tossing it into Harry's lap. "The Polyjuice is ruined," she said. Thankfully, most of the students had gone to bed, so no one outside of those in the know heard her candid statement.

"What?" Ron sat up from his chess game with Hilda. "What happened?" Hermione tossed something onto the table, scattering the chess pieces to their shouts of dismay. " _A book?_ "

"Some idiot threw that into Myrtle's toilet," Hermione replied. "It landed right in the cauldron, and the entire potion turned black and burned through the cauldron bottom. The stain on the floor will probably never come off."

Harry walked over to the table and picked up the journal. "This book did all that?"

Hermione scowled at the diary. "Don't ask me how, all I know is that whoever threw it will have a lot of explaining to do if I ever catch them."

( _At that moment, Ginny Weasley crawled through the portrait, a serene expression gracing her face for the first time in months. Upon noticing the diary in Harry's hands, her face went white as a sheet. Fortunately, the trio and Hilda were too caught up in their own matters to notice her, and she escaped up the girl's dormitory stairs unseen._ )

Harry flipped through the pages of the book. "It's completely blank."

"If you want a diary, Harry, you're welcome to keep it. I tried setting it on fire, but apparently, it's fireproof."

Hilda took the book from Harry's hand and read the embossed name on its cover. "Who's Tom Marvolo Riddle?" she asked.

Hermione shrugged. "No idea. Harry?"

Harry shook his head. "Can't say I've ever heard of him."

" _...I have,_ " Ron said. All heads turned to him. "When I was in detention with Filch after the car... _accident_ , he had me polish all of the trophies in the Trophy Hall-without magic, I might add."

"Get to the point, Ron."

"Anyway, Tom _Marvolo_ Riddle—what a ridiculous middle name, don't you think? It doesn't even mean anything. Alright, stop shouting, I'll get to it—he was the Head Boy in 1945. He had a trophy for 'actions of bravery and duty to the school', whatever that means."

"Wasn't that the year the Chamber of Secrets was first opened?" Hilda asked. "Do you think he had something to do with it?"

"No way to find out," Ron said. "Other than asking Riddle himself. Who knows where he is, though, or if he's even still alive."

Hermione groaned and collapsed into an armchair. "Well, whatever he did, his stupid diary ruined our plans."

"Can't we just make another one?" Harry asked.

"It took me a month to make this one," Hermione replied. "By the time we had a new one ready, someone else could get petrified, or worse."

"So we're out of luck," Harry said. "Well, we tried, guess we'll have to find a new way of catching Malfoy."

_"Ahem."_

Everyone looked to Hilda's shoulder. "Who was that?" Ron asked.

"Alfur," Hermione replied. "Haven't you signed the paperwork yet?"

"...It's on a list of things to do."

"As I was about to say, I may have a solution to your problem," Alfur said, grinning.

* * *

 _I was hoping We could break in,_ the Voice said.

Hilda rolled her eyes. _Not a chance._

_You're no fun._

Hilda crept down the dungeon stairway, setting Alfur down a few yards from the Slytherin's secret entrance. "At midnight, I'll come down to get you. Think you can get in and out by then?"

"Should be a piece of cake," Alfur said, grinning.

Hilda grinned back. "Ok, good luck, and avoid the cats." With that, she turned and darted back up the stairs.

"...Cats?"

* * *

Ten minutes later, Alfur slipped into the Slytherin dormitory by clinging to the robe of a prefect returning from patrol. Hopping off, he scurried from cover to cover, eyes peeled for any patrolling cats. He went down a side corridor lined with doors, pausing to read the nameplate on each one. He noted with surprise that the Slytherins had their own private double rooms. He imagined that Ron would seethe at the idea. He finally located the right door: _Malfoy/Zabini_. Voices could be heard on the other side. Alfur nimbly scaled the door and slipped through the keyhole.

"How was your Christmas, Draco?" Malfoy and a dark-skinned boy were seated by a coal fire, sharing a bottle of firewhiskey between them. Alfur crept closer towards the two, taking a place under an overstuffed green ottoman.

"It was alright," Draco muttered, pausing to take a swig from the bottle. He gritted his teeth as the liquid burned down his throat before continuing. "Mother was happy to see me. Father was busy at the Ministry, and was barely home. When we did get to talk, he lectured me on my behavior at school, and quizzed me about his favorite topic."

"Potter?" Zabini asked.

"Harry-Bloody-Potter," Draco muttered, taking a second swig before passing it back. "Father's pleased as punch that everyone thinks he's the Heir of Slytherin. He says one more attack and the Board of Governors will have Dumbledore removed as Headmaster and then ship Potter off to Azkaban."

Alfur took out a roll of parchment and began to take notes.

"Your father sounds awfully pleased about the whole business."

"Well, he's upset, of course. He just thinks the headmaster isn't handling the job correctly. New blood is what's needed."

"New blood?" Zabini repeated, smirking. "Is that what the Purebloods are after these days?"

"Don't be a prat, Blaise. You know what I mean."

Blaise rolled his eyes "Of course I do," he replied. He finished off the bottle and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. "So, what do you think about this Chamber business? You think Potter is really the Heir?"

Draco laughed. "Hardly. He's too much of a Muggle-lover to do something like that. Besides, wouldn't it be more likely the Heir of Slytherin is one of our own?"

Zabini grimaced. "Which brings me to my next question."

"Merlin, Blaise! You really buy that dragon dung the Weasley twins are selling?"

"Don't blow your top," Blaise snapped back. "Of course it wasn't you. We both know you were nowhere near where the attacks happened."

Malfoy frowned. "No, I wasn't." He swirled the remnants of the firewhiskey around the bottom of the bottle, his expression suddenly thoughtful. "Do people really think I'd do something like that?" he asked.

"I don't."

"But, do other people?"

"Well…" Blaise began, rubbing the back of his head. "Your blatant Pure-Blood bigotry doesn't help your case at all. Neither does your family's… complicated reputation."

"My father had nothing to do with the Dark Lord," Draco said defensively. "He was under the Imperius. Everyone knows that." He decided that he didn't like the direction the conversation was going. "How was your Christmas, Blaise?"

Blaise shrugged. "It was fine. I met my new Stepfather. He seems…not long for this world. Wouldn't stop chewing with his mouth open at dinner. Mother was glaring daggers the whole evening."

"He get you anything good?"

"Yep," Blaise walked over to his dresser and opened the top drawer. "He got me a Sneakoscope. Although, knowing Mother, he probably needs one more than I do—wait, what?" He pulled the device from the drawer and held it up for Draco to see. The top-shaped device was spinning in his palm, emitting flashes of red light and whistling.

"What on Earth?" Malfoy muttered, standing up and walking over for a closer look.

Zabini pulled his wand from his robe. "We're being watched," he said, eyes scanning the room. He kneeled down and set the device on the floor. " _Show us_ ," he commanded. With a long whistle, the top began to spin across the room, making a beeline for Alfur's hiding place.

"Eeep!" Alfur dropped his parchment and dove out of the Sneakoscope's path. The device stopped and reversed course. Alfur raced for the door, the Sneakoscope in hot pursuit.

"Cut it off!" Zabini shouted. Malfoy stepped in front of the door and aimed his wand towards Alfur. With nowhere else to go, the elf jumped onto Malfoy's pant leg and shimmied up it.

"Something's on me!" Draco shouted, kicking his leg frantically. Alfur held on for dear life but eventually lost his grip. He was flung across the room, landing with a soft thump on Malfoy's bed. "Look!" Draco pointed to the indentation the elf made on the comforter. "It's invisible!"

Blaise shot a spell a the comforter. It missed the elf, but punched a hole in the fabric, throwing goose feathers into the air like snow. Alfur leapt off the bed, raced across the room, and made his escape through the keyhole in the resulting confusion.

* * *

"It's not him," Alfur said as he clambered onto Hilda's shoulder.

Hilda sighed. She wasn't sure whether to be relieved or disappointed. "Ron's not going to be happy."

"Wait till I tell him about the private bedrooms."

Hilda turned to make her way out of the dungeons when the sound of footsteps approaching made her pause. " _Someone's coming!_ " she whispered.

_"Hide!"_

Hilda ducked behind a suit of armor. A moment later, Snape rounded the corner Snape passed right by her hiding spot, going up the stairs. Quietly, Hilda crept up the stairs after him. Snape was standing in the Grand Foyer at the foot of the staircase, arms crossed, foot tapping as he stared at the door. _"What's he doing?"_ Alfur asked.

As if on cue, the front door opened and Hagrid entered, soaked from the sudden rainstorm that had blown in. He crossed the foyer for the stairs, only to freeze when he caught sight of Snape. "Severus! Fancy runnin' into you."

"Yes, quite the coincidence," Snape replied. "Heading up to see the headmaster?"

"As a matter o'fact, I was. If you could just step aside."

Snape blocked the stairs. "Not yet. I have some questions for you."

Hagrid began to wring his hands. "Ah, well, fire away, then."

"I spoke to Albus this morning," Snape began. "As to the matter of your...expulsion from the school."

"Now, Severus, y'don't honestly believe that I-"

"I don't know what to believe, Rubeus," the Potion Master replied. "The Ministry suspects you, and just one more attack will give them all the ammunition they need to send you to Azkaban."

"They wouldn't!" Hagrid said, eyes wide in horror. "Dumbledore knows I had nuthin' to do-"

"Dumbledore's head is on the chopping block as well," Snape replied. "If you knew what was good for you, you would leave Hogwarts tomorrow."

"I can't do that. This is me home."

"For how much longer?" Snape asked, looking around the grand space. "I'm not threatening you, Rubeus, I'm warning you. If you were to leave, then the next attack could not be pinned on you."

"How can I do that?" Hagrid replied, stiffening. "I can't just leave the school now, when there's somethin' attackin' the students. I'm no coward."

"Yes, I am all too aware."

"I won't leave, Severus. This is me home," the groundskeeper repeated. "I know I'm innocent, and so does Dumbledore, so I will stay put."

Snape sighed. "Very well. Good luck, Rubeus. Please be careful."

"Well, er, I will. Thank you, Severus."

"Don't." With that, Snape stepped aside and allowed the half-giant to continue his way up the stairs. As Hagrid ascended, he watched for a few moments, then shook his head. " _Fool,_ " he muttered, before heading back to the dungeons.

* * *

"Harry!" Hilda climbed through the portrait. "I have big news!" Harry was seated at a table on the far end of the room, hunched over a book. "Malfoy didn't do it, but Hagrid-" she stopped. "Harry?"

Harry didn't respond. His eyes were directed at the book before him, his quill hovering motionless over the page. Hilda waved a hand in front of Harry's face, but he didn't seem to notice. Hilda looked down at the book on the table and realized it was Riddle's diary. "Harry, are you alright?" A second later, Harry gasped and nearly fell out of his chair. _"Harry!"_

He noticed Hilda and flinched. "Hilda! What...how?"

"What happened?" Hilda asked. "You looked like you were in some kind of a trance."

"I...the book," Harry gestured to the diary. "It…" He gave up trying to explain and rubbed his eyes. "Maybe you should take a look, see for yourself."

He stood up and gestured for Hilda to take his place. "What do I do?" Hilda asked as she sat down.

"Introduce yourself," Harry replied, handing her a quill.

"What?"

Harry pointed to the quill, then to the blank pages of the diary. Hilda caught on, and after dipping the quill in Harry's inkpot, she began to write: _Hello, my name is Hilda Dahl._

The words faded away just as soon as she had written them. A moment later, a new message appeared on the pages, in a different hand. _Hello, Hilda, my name is Tom Riddle._

* * *

Johanna stood by the window, eyes cast out over the churning sea. With Hilda back at school the house was a cold, silent place. The charm of wilderness living had worn off when Johanna realized her isolation from the rest of Trolberg. Trips to the grocery store or to see friends meant long, uncomfortable car rides, and while she had been used to lacking neighbors when she'd lived in the valley, the menace of the woods around her and the unforgiving pounding of the sea made her loneliness all the worse.

Freezing rain lashed the conservatory window. The squall that had rolled in from the west had turned the roads to muck, effectively trapping her at the house. At times, the building groaned in the wind, its timbers straining and cracking around her. It made sleep difficult; Johanna had the bags under her eyes to prove it.

Having Tontu around the house made things somewhat tolerable, but the Nisse tended to keep to himself, with the exception of mealtimes and the occasional night of vegging out in front of the TV set. Johanna tried to work but found it nearly impossible. Which was why she had started to explore the old house on her own.

That afternoon, she decided to climb the tower. Gripping the rail, she carefully ascended the spiral staircase, taking great pains not to look down as she went up. Three stories up, she found herself in a room, not unlike the lantern room of a lighthouse. It quite possibly had been, if the ruff rocks at the base of the cliffs were as dangerous as they appeared. It was a circular space, with windows on all sides. You could see in all directions from up there. In the center of the room was a large lantern, its glow controlled by a set of operable shutters.

Johanna went to one of the windows and fished her binoculars from her case. It was her mysterious Christmas gift: a note included in the package explained how they were charmed to zoom in and out like a camera lens, to a distance of five miles. Removing the lens caps, she put the binoculars to her eyes and peered through the rain.

The first thing she saw of was the fairy circle. Hilda had told her about the haunted place. She watched the circle for a few minutes. Although there was no sign of activity, she noticed how the grass within the circle seemed untouched by the wind and rain. She shivered and focused on Raven Rock. A flash of lightning told her that the Great Raven was still struggling with his winter cold. She chuckled, then turned her attention left of Raven Rock, to the island of Azkaban beyond.

She adjusted her sights, zooming in. The castle was dark. Above it, a half-dozen Dementors could be seen prowling around, masked heads swiveling for signs of trouble. Johanna looked back down at the castle and spotted someone standing at one of the windows. Zooming as far as the binoculars could go, she could make out the sallow, sunken-cheeked face of an inmate. His black hair was long and disheveled, and streaked with grey. The man had his face pressed between the bars, eyes gazing towards the monsters flying overhead.

Johanna sighed and leaned against the lantern case. Accidentally, she opened the shutters, bathing the room in light. Johanna swore and was about to close them when she noticed the prisoner's head turn towards her in surprise. She could have sworn they locked eyes at that moment.

Experimentally, Johanna closed the shutters, quickly opening it. The man had definitely noticed and was now staring in wide-eyed fascination. Johanna flashed the lamp again. Yes, he was responding.

Of course, Johanna knew that the man she was communicating with was a dangerous criminal. A murderer or a thief, or something far worse. Still, she felt bad for the men and women forced to live with the Dementors, having all happiness sucked out of their lives. It was a fate worse than death, or the Kiss. Living for the rest of your life as though you'll never be happy again.

And so the next night Johanna returned to the tower, this time with a book on Morse code. She'd spent an hour flashing the entire alphabet to the prisoner. From his nods and smiles, she figured that he had caught on.

Finally, she sent the first message. _Hello, my name is Johanna._

As she watched, the man raised a hand and gritted his teeth. To her amazement, a faint light began to flash from his index finger. He grinned, evidently pleased with himself. The ensuing message was garbled by his inexperience at Morse code, but Johanna could make out the message:

_Hello Johanna, my name is Padfoot._

* * *

Hilda fell back into the chair a cold sweat on her forehead. "What?" she asked.

"I know," Harry replied. He grabbed Tom Riddle's journal and flipped it shut. "What did he show you?"

"The first attacks, and Hagrid…" Hilda sat up straight in surprise. "Hagrid! I overheard him and Snape talking earlier. The government thinks Hagrid is responsible."

"He isn't exactly looking very innocent."

Hilda frowned. "Maybe we should ask Tom some more questions."

_No. Do not touch it again. There is something wrong with it, something...dark._

Hilda shrugged. "Then again, maybe not. We can show it to Hermione and Ron tomorrow. Maybe they'll be able to offer advice."

Harry nodded. "Good idea. You want to hold onto it until then, or should I?"

Hilda looked back down at the book and gave an involuntary sliver. "Maybe you should. That thing gives me the creeps.

* * *

The next morning, Hilda found David and Frida at the Gryffindor table. "Good morning."

Frida barked a laugh. "Hah, 'good' morning."

Hilda and David shared a look. "Are you, alright, Frida?"

"I'm fine," Frida replied, looking not at all fine. "It just seems that I'm the only one of us who is really focusing on the exams."

"We're focusing," David replied defensively.

"Then why didn't either of you show up to yesterday afternoon's study session?"

"There was a security meeting in the Hufflepuff dorms about the petrifications," David explained. "I had to attend."

"And you, Hilda? Where were you?"

Hilda considered her answer carefully. "I was at a similar meeting."

"You could have told me."

Hilda rolled her eyes."Honesty, Frida, you're taking this way too seriously."

"I'm sorry if you're too busy running around with Harry Potter to think about your future."

"Who are you to tell me what to do?"

"I'm your friend!"

David sighed. "This is like the messy room all over again."

"Do NOT bring that up!" Frida ordered.

Hilda stood up, scattering some plates. "I don't need to take this from you. You don't know what I'm going through!"

"Whatever," Frida stood up as well, collecting her bags. "I'm going to the library."

"Good, I'll know not to bother you there."

Frida stormed off. She collided with Harry who had been running late and had dashed into the Hall. The books in both of their hands went flying. Harry swore, then bent to pick them up. "I'm sorry, Frida. Let me help."

"I'm fine!" Frida snapped. Harry looked taken aback, then shrugged and grabbed his books from the floor.

"Everything alright with your friend?" Harry said as he sat down next to Ron and Hilda.

"She's worried about the exams, just as she worries about everything."

Harry moaned. "Looks like Hermione's got a clone running around."

"What's a clone?" Ron asked.

"It's a… nevermind."

Hilda leaned across the table. "Do you have it?" she asked in a low voice.

"Yep," Harry, rummaged through his books, then frowned. "Oh, I guess I left it in my dormitory in my hurry to get down here."

"No problem. We can talk to Hermione about it tonight."

"Talk to me about what?" Hermione asked, sitting next to David and helping herself to toast.

"It's complicated. We'll tell you later."

Hermione shrugged. "Suit yourself." She put down her toast and rummaged through her own stack of books. "Harry, Ron, I've taken the liberty of creating study guides for you." She handed each of the boys a ten-page stack of parchment. "What say we start this afternoon with History of Magic."

Harry gave Hilda a small grin. " _Two Hermiones_ ," he mouthed. Hilda waggled her eyebrows and tried not to laugh.

* * *

For the second night, Johanna climbed the tower and lit the lantern. She sat down and peered through her binoculars, counting the windows until she found his.

But he wasn't there. Johanna lowered her binoculars. She was disappointed, although she couldn't say why.

She waited an hour, then two, but no Padfoot. At midnight she extinguished the lantern and descended the tower.

She stopped off in the kitchen before bed and found it in chaos. "Tontu? Have you been making cookies again?" she asked, inspecting the flour-covered table. No response. The Nisse must be elsewhere. "So I suppose _I'll_ have to clean this up, then?"

Sighing, she gathered up the baking detritus and left the house. She had staked out a future vegetable garden and had begun a compost heap in the far corner, which would hopefully be ready for harvest by mid-spring. She shivered from the North Sea Winds as she left the house and crossed the open space.

When she was halfway to the compost heap, she heard it. Footsteps, trudging through the snow. She froze and looked around. The footsteps stopped too. Silence. She couldn't see anything in the dark of the new moon sky, but she could feel their eyes on her. As she stared, a black form emerged from behind the compost heap, a pair of yellow eyes glowing in the moonlight. Dropping her load of rubbish, she turned and ran back to the house, bolting the door behind her.

She ran into the drawing room and fumbled with her keyring until she found the one for the gun cupboard. She picked a hunting rifle and loaded it with trembling fingers.

Tontu walked into the room, casually chewing on an apple. "You alright?" he asked.

" _SHHH! Get down!_ "

"...Why are you whispering?"

" _There's someone out there,_ " Johanna replied. As that moment, a tap came to one of the windows, several scratches running down the glass. Johanna ducked, motioning for Tontu to follow. _"Cut the lights!"_ she hissed. Tontu obeyed. They waited, faces up-lit by the low embers in the fireplace, as someone paced back and forth outside, occasionally trying the windows, searching for an unlocked one. Johanna's blood froze as she remembered the Woodman's habit of coming in through windows. Did he always lock them behind him? Johanna pulled the bolt back on the rifle.

 _"Do you know how to use that thing?"_ Tontu asked.

_"Of course."_

_"Well, in that case, could you not aim it at me."_

_"Oh, sorry,"_ Johanna raised the barrel and smiled sheepishly. Any further conversation was hushed by the creature's terrible scratches.

After what seemed like an eternity (Johanna's watch counted it at ninety seconds, give or take), the intruder left, their footsteps receding back into the night.

"Ok, that was creepy," Tontu admitted after an extra minute of silence.

"I need your help," Johanna said, standing up. "We need to check every door and window in the house. If you'll get the second floor, I'll get this floor."

"Fine, but you owe me."

"I wouldn't have been out there if you'd cleaned up after yourself," Johanna pointed out. "If anything, you owe me."

"Yes, but if you hadn't been out there, you'd've never known he was there! He could've broken in while we were asleep!" Tontu folded his hands in satisfaction. "There, how's that?"

Johanna clenched her fists, eyes wide in fury. Then she paused and took a few deep breaths. "We can talk about this tomorrow, if we're still alive by then."

Tontu shrugged. "Whatever you say."


	17. Into the Woods

In her next letter, Johanna chose not to share with her daughter the events of the previous night.

Hilda, likewise, did not divulge any details on her investigation into the Chamber. She wouldn't have been able to share much if she wanted to. The investigation had stalled yet again. This latest roadblock was the theft of the Riddle Diary from Harry's dormitory.

"Who could have done it?" Ron asked the next morning as the group gloomily munched their toast.

"Maybe it was whoever threw it into Hermione's cauldron," Hilda suggested. "They may have wanted it back."

"It's probably for the best," Hermione sniffed, still sore about the sabotage of the Polyjuice Potion. "From what you were telling us about it, that thing sounds like a work of dark magic."

David ran over to the table. "Have you seen Frida?" he asked.

"No. She must still be sulking," Hilda replied.

"I feel bad about our fight yesterday."

Hilda bit her lip and nodded. "We were a little harsh on her, I guess."

"She's probably in the library again." Hermione stood up and gathered her things. "If you're going up, David, I'll come with you. There's a lead I need to pursue."

"What lead?" Ron asked.

Hermione smiled. "Well, it's more of a hunch, but if it leads to something I'll tell you all about it tonight. By the way, David, that spider is back."

"Really?" David brushed the creature off his shoulder. "I don't understand why he likes me so much. Hilda, are you coming?"

"I can't, I have Saturday detention with Snape."

"What did you do this time?" Hermione asked.

"I spoke out in class again."

"You need to stop antagonizing him," Harry said. "He doesn't need more of a reason to pick on the Gryffindors."

* * *

"Professor?"

Snape looked up from his grading and eyed Hilda warily. "Shouldn't you be scrubbing?"

"I am," she gestured to the table. The stains were still nowhere near close to coming off, despite her valiant efforts. "I just wanted to ask you something."

"More questions," Snape muttered. "Very well. As we're not in class, I won't deduct points for not raising your hand." He gestured for her to go ahead.

"Why do you dislike the Gryffindors so much?"

"Is that what you all think?" Snape frowned. "Typical. Your inflated egos are one reason, I suppose. I don't know how you get it in your heads, but it seems that all Gryffindors have a hero complex."

"Is that a bad thing?" Hilda asked.

"Heroes, Miss Dahl, tend to have short life expectancies. Potter's father had a hero complex, and look where it got Lily."

_"Lily?"_

Snape went stiff, realizing his blunder. "Enough questions," he said.

"But-"

"If you can manage to remove that stain, then perhaps we can talk further."

Hilda looked down at the mess on the table. "It doesn't seem to be coming off."

"And it won't," Snape replied, smirking. "Not with those tools your using."

"Then why am I doing this?" Hilda demanded, throwing the scrub brush down.

"Ahh, here's another example as to why I dislike Gryffindors: you're all so quick to _do,_ but you never stop to _think._ "

Hilda growled and turned back to the mess. " _Never stop to think_ ," she muttered. She sighed. "What am I going to do?"

_Maybe I can be of assistance._

Hilda sat up, then gave a sly grin and put her hand to the stain. With a discrete flash of blue light the stain vanished. "Finished!" she said brightly.

When Snape looked up and saw the spotless table his jaw nearly hit the floor. "What?" the usually unflappable professor asked.

"I guess I get to ask another question then," Hilda said. "Who is Lily?"

Snape ground his teeth for a few moments. "Lily was a… friend of mine," he finally said.

 _You have friends?_ the Voice asked, voice dripping with sarcasm.

"Was she a Slytherin?" Hilda asked instead.

"She was sorted into Gryffindor, to my dismay."

"So Lily was like Professor McGonagall's friend Lotte."

Snape gave a hint of a smile. "An apt comparison."

"And what did Harry's father do to her?"

Snape's expression darkened, and Hilda saw pain in his eyes. A moment later his face returned to its usual impenetrable mask. "I've answered enough questions. Your detention is over, Miss Dahl. Please get out."

* * *

Hilda reached the library just as it was closing. "You just missed them," Miss Kaisa said as she collected a stack of discarded books from a study table. "Hermione, Frida and David just left."

"Where were they going?"

Miss Kaisa rolled her eyes. "I don't know everything," the librarian replied.

"...You kinda act as though you do, sometimes."

"Being mysterious has its perks." She turned to face Hilda and frowned. "Did you come up here alone?"

"Yes."

"Hilda! All students are supposed to travel in groups of two or more after four o'clock. Curfew rules."

"But there's no one else around."

"Actually, I believe there is one person." Miss Kaisa peered around a bookcase. "Mr. Malfoy!" Hilda groaned. "You and Hilda seem to be the last two students here. Would you kindly escort her to dinner?" Draco scowled as he caught sight of Hilda, but nodded. "Excellent. Now run along."

They walked in silence for a few minutes, neither daring to make the first move. "Still acting like a prat?" Hilda finally asked.

"Still talking to yourself?" Draco retorted. Hilda's eyes widened. "Oh, come off it, half the school has seen you doing it. You're starting to seem madder than that Lovegood girl."

"Don't talk about Luna like that," Hilda snapped. "She's a good person."

"Hardly. Her father's a complete loon. Believes in all sorts of nonsense—fairy tales and the like."

"Believing in fairies isn't as mad as believing in blood purity."

Draco was about to respond with a cutting remark when they rounded the corner and nearly collided with Hermione and David outside of Myrtle's toilet. "Watch it!" he snarled, regaining his balance.

"Hilda!"

"Hi, David. What's with the mirrors?"

"We'll explain when we get to dinner," Hermione said quickly. "Now c'mon."

"Where's Frida?"

"She left the library before us," David said.

"Alone? We have to get her!"

Malfoy snorted. "She's probably already at dinner, or holed up in the Ravenclaw common room with the other study nuts."

"She's not nuts," David said hotly.

Draco smirked. "Oh, did I strike a nerve, Andersen? You don't like it when I insult your girlfriend."

"She's not my girlfriend," David said, blushing.

"Could've fooled me, the way you follow her like a lovesick puppy. Rather silly, really. As if you'd have a chance. Imagine, a fool and a nut. Quite the pair."

With a cry of anger, David threw himself onto the Slytherin, sending them both to the ground. Fists were thrown, and the two rolled around on the stone floor, each trying to get a decent blow in. Fortunately, neither knew how to land a proper punch. Hilda and Hermione pulled the Hufflepuff off of Draco.

"Really, David, he's not worth it," Hermione said, smoothing off the boy's robes.

David's face lost its red color as he took a few calming breaths. "You're right, Hermione."

"Look what you've done, you stupid Mudblood!" Draco said. "You've gotten my robes all wet!"

Hilda glanced down and noticed a stream of water an inch deep washing over the stones. She followed the source to the door to Myrtle's bathroom. "Oh, no," she heard Hermione whisper.

At that moment, the door was flung open. David, who had also been staring at the water, froze at the sight of something reflected in the puddles. Before Hilda could ask him what was wrong, the boy fell over, petrified.

"Hilda! Draco!" Hermione raised her mirror. "Close your eyes. For Merlin's sake, don't look at it!"

"What?" Draco asked. Hilda tackled the Slytherin back to the floor and covered his face with her hand, screwing her eyes shut as well. She listened in horror as something large emerged from the toilets, a loud hiss filling the air. There was another thud as something or someone fell, and then the creature moved off, its massive form scraping against the walls and ceiling.

They waited for nearly a minute before opening their eyes. "Hermione!" Hilda crawled through the water to the girl. She lay beside David, her face frozen in shock.

Draco sat up and caught sight of the two petrified forms. "Wh-what?" he said, eyes wide in terror.

Footsteps echoed through the halls. "Ms. Dahl! Mr. Malfoy!" McGonagall and Snape rounded the corner and froze. " _No,_ " the old woman whispered.

"David! David! Snap out of it!" Hilda pleaded, but the boy could not respond. She punched the ground, sending up a geyser of water. McGonagall and Snape grabbed her shoulders and pulled her to her feet. "Let me go!" She screamed.

"Ms. Dahl, please. There's nothing we can do!"

"I'll fetch Nurse Pomfrey," Snape said. "Draco, are you alright?"

"She saved me," Draco muttered.

Snape looked back at Hermione. "Yes, she did. Come, I'll take you back to the Common Room."

* * *

Hilda sat by the hospital bed, one hand resting in David's cold hand. She had been there all night, hoping against all odds that David would come out of his spell, that he would blink up at her and smile. But he didn't. She looked across the aisle at Colin Creevey, his hands still gripping a missing camera. "I couldn't protect you, either," she said, looking back at David. A tear fell from her eye onto David's hand, but it didn't break the spell. There's no magic in tears, she supposed.

Frida hadn't shown her face, which only angered Hilda more. _"Some friend,"_ she muttered. As she spoke, the infirmary doors opened, and she looked up in surprise, only half-expecting to see her former friend standing there.

Instead, Harry and Ron rushed in, stopping at Hermione's bed. "No," Harry whispered. He turned and noticed Hilda, then looked down at David. "Oh, Hilda, I'm so sorry."

"I'm sorry too," she replied, letting go of David's hand. "I was right there and I couldn't do anything."

"What could you have done?" Alfur, who had ridden in on Harry's shoulder, asked her. "You could've been on one of these beds too, or worse."

"They took Hagrid away," Ron told her. "We were at his hut when the Minister of Magic came and arrested him. He's being taken to Azkaban."

"Why didn't Dumbledore stop them?"

"Dumbledore's gone too," Harry said quietly. "Malfoy's dad had him removed from his post."

The hospital doors opened again, admitting Draco Malfoy. "Hi," he said, stopping a few feet from the group. "Are you alright?" he asked Hilda.

"As fine as I can be, considering."

"What are you doing here?" Ron spat, standing up and stepping between Hilda and Draco. "Come to gloat? Because we're really not in the mood."

"Ron," Hilda stood and put a hand on the boy's shoulder. "Hermione saved him, too."

"...Oh," Ron rubbed the back of his neck, avoiding eye contact with Draco. "Well, thanks for coming, I guess."

Draco walked over to Hermione's cot and looked down at her. "Why did she do it?" he asked the room, shaking his head. "After all I said and did to her. Why?"

"Because she didn't care about your blood or your house," Hilda said. "She cared about your safety."

"I didn't deserve it," Draco replied. He sat down on the edge of David's bed and propped his hands up with his chin.

"Yes, you did," Harry said finally.

Hilda sat back down beside David and smiled grimly. "Mum was right, I'm in over my head." She noticed something on David's shoulder and chuckled. "Look, the spider's back."

"Where?" Ron stepped back, eyes wide. "Don't let it anywhere near me."

Draco couldn't help but smirk. "Honestly, Weasley. You're afraid of spiders?"

"Shut up, Malfoy," Ron replied. He blanched, then coughed. "Sorry."

Hilda scooped the little spider into her palm and brought it up to her face. "He's kinda cute, actually. Hello, little guy."

To her surprise, the spider raised its little foreleg and waved. "Hello!"

"What on Earth?" Hilda gave a start. "Did you just talk?"

The spider nodded its head. "My name's Lucas." His voice was small and high-pitched, like a young child.

Harry leaned over Hilda's shoulder. "Wow, a talking spider!"

"He's still a spider," Ron muttered.

Harry's eyes widened in recognition. " _The spiders!_ " He leaned down to Lucas. "Hagrid told us to follow the spiders. Do you know what that means?"

The spider rubbed its mandibles thoughtfully. "Follow the spiders? Oh! We're going to Aragog! It's not safe in the castle with It around."

"Who is Aragog?" Hilda asked.

"He's our leader!" the spider replied. "He's really scary, but if you have any questions, he can answer them, probably."

"Where is he?" Harry asked.

"In the forest."

"Then we're going to the forest."

Ron shook his head emphatically. "I am not going into the Forbidden Forest to talk to a bunch of spiders."

"I agree," Draco replied. "This is madness."

* * *

"I can't believe I'm going into the Forbidden Forest to talk to a bunch of spiders," Ron muttered, following the glow of Harry's wand through the trees.

"I agree," Draco looked around at the shadows and shivered. "This is madness."

"Still scared of the woods, Malfoy?" Harry asked, hiding a smirk.

"No! I just think this isn't our problem."

"You want to help Hermione, don't you?" Hilda asked.

"Well, yes, but-" Draco huffed and pulled his coat collar up. "Whatever."

"I don't understand why people are afraid of us," Lucas said. He was sitting beside Alfur on Hilda's shoulder, giving directions into her ear. "I mean, I know we have too many eyes, but we'd never hurt a fly. Well, I mean, we hurt flies, but not people."

"What about bats?" Harry asked, pointing. The trees around them were coated in webbing. Bats, squirrels, and other small creatures cried and writhed in their traps. Wrapped forms dotted among the living showed their eventual fate.

"The big ones eat those," Lucas replied. "Too big for me."

"Big ones?" Ron squeaked. "How big?"

Lucas pointed to Twig. "Bigger than him."

Draco paled. "Wait, we're not talking about spiders, we're talking about _acromantulas._ " He put his head in his hands. "We're doomed."

Ron shook his head and turned to go. "Nope _**nope**_ , **_nope_**. I'm out of here."

"Ron!" Harry hissed.

"No, don't scold me! I've had all I can put up with tonight, and I will not become a giant spider's dinner."

 _"That's a shame._ _I was looking forward to having you."_ All heads turned up. Ron's next words faded into an indecipherable dribble of words. Above them loomed a spider the size of a small car, its mandibles dripping venomous saliva as it gazed down at the children with its four red eyes. They stepped back as it descended on a string of webbing to land before them. _"Trespassers,"_ it said in a hushed, raspy voice. _"My favorite."_

Draco turned to run but froze. "Guys!" Harry and Hilda looked around. More spiders had emerged from the trees and the shadows and surrounded them in a tight circle. All hands went for their wands.

_"What brings you to my forest?"_

"Um, hi, Mr. Aragog!" Lucas waved to get the acromantula's attention. "My name is Lucas. These humans wanted to ask you some questions."

_"Hmm. Not often my meals have last requests. Most are too busy begging for their lives, which gets so tiring."_

"We're friends of Hagrid," Harry said, eying the surrounding spiders nervously. "He said to find you."

_"Hagrid? My father. He saved my life. For that, I suppose I mustn't eat you. How is Hagrid? He has not been around in a long time."_

"He has been arrested," Hilda said, speaking up. "They think he is responsible for the creature in the castle."

"You were there in 1945," Harry said, recalling the memory from Tom Riddle's Diary. "They thought _you_ were the monster. They thought you killed that student!"

 _"I did not kill that girl,"_ the giant spider said, pounding the forest floor with a tree-trunk leg for emphasis. _"The foolish humans, they did not understand Hagrid's kindness, his generosity. I was cast out into these woods like a common beast."_

"If you're not responsible, then who is?" Hilda asked.

 _"We do not speak Its name,"_ Aragog said in a hushed whisper. _"It is the enemy of my people."_

Harry smiled. "Well, uh, thank you, Aragog. We'll just be going now."

_"Going? I think not. You must stay for dinner."_

"You said you weren't going to eat us!" Draco shouted, shaking in fear.

 _"I did say that. My_ children _, however, are starving."_

With that, the spiders attacked.

* * *

Johanna's eyes flicked open. She sat up alert in her bed, eyes drifting across the dark room. Something had startled her from her sleep, a sound. She listened intently, her breath held. There! The sound of footsteps crunching through the snow. She got out of bed and padded barefoot towards the nearest window and peered out between the heavy velvet curtains. She could make out a set of tracks crossing the snowy lawn, heading from the woods and around the side of the manor.

Another sound startled her, this one from inside the house: a window breaking downstairs. Johanna got onto her knees and pulled the hunting rifle out from under the bed. Checking it was loaded, she pulled on her dressing gown before creeping out into the hall and towards the stairs.

At the bottom of the stairs, she found Tontu peering through the living room doorway and clasping his hands nervously. "What is it?" she asked.

"A man broke in through the conservatory," the Nisse whispered. "He's in the kitchen."

There was a crash from something being knocked over. She peered over Tontu's head through the living room door and saw a light emanating from under the door to the kitchen Someone could be heard rummaging through cupboards. "It could be the Woodman," she whispered. Then the door opened, and a large form appeared. Johanna jumped in surprise, her finger tightening around the trigger of the rifle.

There was a bang, followed by a cry of pain. The figure in the doorway fell back, collided with the kitchen table, and went down. Johanna ducked into the hall and reloaded with trembling fingers. "You killed him!" Tontus cried.

"I didn't mean to," Johanna replied, trying hard to control her panic. When the blood stopped pounding in her ears, she could make out a pitiful whining noise. "That's not a man's voice," she said, standing up. She went back through the living room and looked through the kitchen door. "It's a dog!"

A large black hound lay by the fridge among the remnants of their leftovers. Johanna's shot had struck him on the rear left leg, and the dog was licking at its wound and whining. It noticed Johanna and jumped clumsily to its feet, scrambling around to the other side of the fridge.

"Oh dear," Johanna lowered the rifle. "Tontu, get the first aid kit." She stepped forward. "Easy, boy." The dog struggled to its feet and scampered around the table. With a leap, it threw itself through the window above the sink with a crash of glass. Johanna ran to the window and peered out, but the dog had vanished.

"What a mess," Tontu said. "I hope I'm not expected to clean this up."

Johanna stared out into the darkness, biting her lip. "The poor thing," she whispered, before turning back to the mess of her kitchen. "We need to board up the window. Check the basement for planks or something similar."

The Nisse shook its head as it left the room. "I should've stayed asleep."

* * *

Despite a valiant defense, the spiders had advanced to within arm's reach. With his wand malfunctioning, Ron had found a large branch, which he was using to whack back the enclosing mob. A particularly large acromantula tore the branch from his hands and reared back to attack, its fangs bared, when a curse took its head clean off. Ron turned to see who had saved him.

"Thanks, Malfoy," he said, relief mixed with disbelief that those words would ever leave his lips.

"Please don't mention it," the Slytherin replied before turning his attention to another breach in the defenses.

Hilda recoiled as one of the acromantulas snapped at her. _There are too many of them,_ she thought, panic rising in her throat. _We're doomed._

 _Not if I can help,_ the Voice said. _Give me control,_ _now._

Hilda took a deep breath and shut her eyes. When the opened, they were blue orbs. Raising a hand and closing it into a fist, she brought it down onto the ground. A burst of blue light momentarily blinded the students and sent the gathered spiders flying back.

Hilda's eyes regained their proper state, and she stood back up, looking down at her fist in surprise. "What the bloody hell was that?" Malfoy asked, pausing to rub the spots from his vision.

Hilda was saved the explanation by Harry. "Look!" he pointed to a gap in the line of spiders. "Let's go!"

They ran, and the spiders followed. "I'd just like to say that I don't want to eat you!" Lucas shouted as he clung to Hilda's scarf. "Not even a little bit!"

"That's very kind of you to say," Alfur replied, smiling in spite of the danger.

"Who said that?" Draco asked, head whipping around.

"If we survive this, I'll give you the necessary forms to sign," Hilda answered.

Ron glanced to his left, then his right. "They're trying to flank us!" he shouted. As the words left his mouth a bright light-make that two-flashed on in front of them. The students screeched to a halt, and Ron's brow furrowed in recognition. "Is that…?"

"What is that?" Malfoy asked, squinting to see past the twin beams.

"It's the Anglia!" Harry said, running towards the car.

"What's an Anglia?" Malfoy asked,

"It's a car," Hilda explained,

"...What's a _car_?"

The car popped its doors open and honked its horn impatiently. "Just get in!" Hilda shouted, shoving Draco into the backseat and following him in.

The Anglia's tires spun fast in the mud before it rocketed off, knocking aside any acromantula unfortunate enough to get in its path. Malfoy watched in shock as a spider was knocked up onto the hood before being dragged under the wheels and squished. "Such a beastly thing," he said. He tried the vinyl seats. "Comfy, though."

"I bloody hate spiders," Ron muttered.

"I don't really blame you," Lucas said, glancing out the rear window at the mob they were leaving behind. "That's not a nice way to treat new friends."

The next few minutes were spent in silence, as each passenger contemplated their close call and the revelations given by Aragog. "So, Hagrid was set up, then," Harry finally said. "He didn't open the Chamber."

"Who in their right minds would believe that to begin with?" Draco asked. "He's not the sharpest knife in the drawer, and certainly not clever or evil in any way."

"Thank you for your support," Harry replied dryly. "Even if you didn't phrase it the right way."

"How was I supposed to phrase it, Potter?"

"Less prat-like, probably," Hilda postulated.

Draco turned his attention to Hilda. "Perhaps now you can tell us what happened back there?"

Hilda gave a naive grin. "I don't know what you mean."

"That magic you used, that wasn't regular magic," Draco continued. "That was _elemental_ magic, the oldest and most uncontrollable magic there is."

"Uncontrollable?" Ron asked. "How so?"

Draco frowned. "I don't know exactly how. It's the rawest of magic, pulled from the elements by the first wizards-the Druids and the Norsemen and the Shamans and what have you. It's not something that's taught much anymore; I suppose Runes are the sole exception."

"So, it's like fire," Ron said. "It's powerful, but you can get burnt."

"It's _elemental_ ," Draco reiterated. "So yes, it's like fire, and water, and wind. Almost impossible for a human to control without consequences."

"I knew someone who tried to control the weather," Hilda said, remembering Victoria Van Gale's laboratory. "It didn't work out too well for her."

"So you can see my surprise that you managed to pull old magic out of your literal hands," Draco said.

Hilda winced. "I don't know how I can explain it, you'll think I'm mad."

"I think you're impossible at the moment," Draco said. "I think mad would be an improvement."

Hilda looked down at her hands, tugging at the fraying cuffs of her sweater. "There's… something inside of me."

"Something?" Harry asked.

"Well, maybe someone."

"I really don't follow," Ron remarked, rubbing his eyes as he focused on the path through the trees ahead of them.

"There's a voice in my head," Hilda explained. "It speaks to me, it fights with me. I don't know who she is, and I don't know if I can trust her, because I think she wants to take full control of my body."

"Hilda, this sounds extremely dangerous," Alfur remarked. "You need to tell someone."

"I'm telling you all," Hilda shot back. Hilda sighed. "I'm sorry, Alfur. Who can I tell? Mum worries enough, and if I'm _impossible,_ as Draco put it, then the wizards will probably poke and prod at me like a lab rat." She kicked at the seat in front of her, eliciting a short honk of irritation from the Anglia. "It's just frustrating. She's dangerous, and I know that she's not helping me for the right reasons, but the fact is we'd have been eaten by spiders back there if not for her." She looked at Harry. "And if not for her, we'd never have escaped the Dementors."

" _Dementors?_ " Ron asked, startled. "What were you up to on your holiday?"

Harry winced. "I'll explain later."

Alfur frowned. "Hilda, I suppose the question to ask is, is this power worth the risk of losing control to the voice?"

Hilda looked out the window, watching the moon through the trees. "I don't know."


	18. The Red Right Hand

Arthur Weasley's Anglia left the group of students at the forest's edge; from there they tramped morosely across the frosty grounds of the school and into a side door. Only when they nearly dodged an encounter with Percy Weasley did they remember the increased patrols of the corridors. "We can't get around without being seen," Harry muttered.

"What about the Inv—" Hilda began, then noticed Draco beside her. "Nevermind. We'd better find a place to hide until morning."

Ron's stomach rumbled like a dump truck on a gravel. "Could we maybe find somewhere with food? I just remembered we missed dinner."

Hilda smiled. "I think I know a place."

* * *

They crawled through the small door and into the warm, cozy confines of the Hogwarts kitchens. The room was empty save for Mitzy the house elf, who glanced up from a book in surprise. Hilda noted it was a battered copy of _Das Kapital_. "What is Miss Hildy and friends doing out of their beds?" she asked, hiding the book under a copy of _Mastering the Art of French Cooking_.

"We got lost," Hilda said quickly. "And we don't want to be caught by the professors. May we spend the night here?"

Mitzy nodded her little head. "Mizty shall fetch blankets. Would Miss Hildy's friends like cocoa?"

Heads nodded. "A sandwich would be nice!" Ron said.

Hilda rolled her eyes. "Surely you can do it yourself, and not make Mitzy juggle three tasks at once."

Harry was about to agree when a loud snap echoed through the room and someone rugby-tackled him to the floor. "Harry Potter!" the attacker yelled. _"You must leave! Death has come to Hogwarts! Why won't Harry Potter listen?!"_

" _Merlin's sake, Dobby! Gerroff_!" Harry yelled, pushing the babbling house elf off of him and sitting up. "Why are you still around?"

"Harry Potter did not listen to Dobby! Harry Potter in in great danger."

"Dobby?"

The house elf turned to Draco and flinched. "Master Draco! Dobby can explain!" He opened his mouth, then stopped and began to whack himself in the head with a rolling pin.

"Dobby, stop!" Draco ordered.

"Wait, Dobby is your house elf?" Harry asked.

Draco nodded. "What on earth are you doing here, Dobby? Father mentioned you were up to something. Is this where you've been sneaking away to all this time?"

"Master Draco need not tell his father about Dobby's doings," the house elf pleaded.

"I won't," Draco said quickly. "I'm just confused."

Harry rolled his eyes, then perked up. "Draco! Dobby has been trying to warn me about danger at Hogwarts all year, but he could never tell me what danger!"

Hilda picked up the thread. "He can't tell us, but you're his...master," she frowned at the distasteful concept. "If you ask him, maybe he will answer. We could find out who's behind all of this!"

Draco nodded and looked back at Dobby. "Dobby, you need to tell us who is behind this."

Dobby almost spoke, but clapped his hands over his mouth at the last moment. "Master Lucius told Dobby not to tell Master Draco anything."

Draco recoiled in surprise. After a moment, he resolved himself and pressed on. "Tell me, Dobby."

Dobby sobbed into his hands. "Master Lucius was to get the her to open the Chamber. She needed the book to control the snake."

"Snake?" Harry's mouth went agape. All the pieces were starting to fall into place. "The voice in the walls!" He shouted. "You all heard hissing, and thought it was the steam ducts, but it was a snake!"

Hilda caught on and snapped her fingers. "You speak Parseltongue, so you understood it while everyone else couldn't!"

"What kind of snake can petrify students?" Ron asked.

"It could be a basilisk," Draco muttered. All heads swiveled to him. "A basilisk? None of you have heard of it?"

"I know the word," Hilda admitted. "But not much else."

"Typical Mud...Muggleborns. A basilisk is a giant, magical snake. It has a highly toxic bite, and it's gaze can kill anything that meets it."

"But no one's died," Harry said, "I mean, with the exception of that girl in 1945, all of the victims were petrified."

"They didn't die," Alfur spoke up, bouncing on Hilda's shoulder excitedly, "Because they didn't look it in the eye!"

"I don't follow."

Draco rolled his eyes. "Mrs. Norris and David saw the basilisk's reflection in the water!" He began, counting off the victims on his fingers. "Colin Creevey saw it through his camera lens. Justin Finch-Fletchley saw it through Nearly-Headless Nick, and Nick couldn't be killed by it because he's already dead!"

"And Hermione and David had the mirrors!" Hilda shouted. "They knew!"

Harry turned back to Dobby. "What was that about a girl?" Dobby refused to answer. "Draco?"

Draco shook his head. "Please, I don't want to know any more."

"Draco, please."

"My father is responsible for this whole mess!" Draco suddenly snapped. "You expect me to gather more evidence! I can't do it!"

Hilda put a hand on Draco's arm. "Draco, I know this is hard to hear. We need to find out who is controlling the basilisk. Please, ask Dobby the question."

Draco looked away for a few moments. Finally, he wiped his eyes with the sleeve of his robe and turned back to the house elf. "Answer Harry's question, Dobby."

Dobby nodded. "Master Lucius put the book in the red girl's bag at the bookshop," Dobby stuttered. "The book needed a…a _can-do-it_?"

"A _conduit_ ," Hilda corrected him. Dobby nodded vigorously. "Who is the red girl?" she asked, but the house elf's nerve finally failed, and he vanished with a crack.

Alfur rubbed his chin in thought. His brain was trying to remind him of something, but what? Then it struck him and he leapt nearly a foot into the air (an impressive feet for a creature only four inches tall). "Ginny!"

"What?" Harry shot up like a rocket. "What are you talking about?"

"I remember now! During the fight at Flourish and Blotts, Mr. Malfoy slipped a book into Ginny's bag."

"You mean Ginny is behind this?" Ron asked. He gave a scoff. "That's impossible."

"What did this book look like?" Harry asked.

"It was black, leather-bound," Alfur said, thinking. "And about the size of a journal."

Harry and Hilda locked eyes. " _Tom Riddle,_ " they said in unison.

"Who?" Draco asked.

"We'll explain later. First we need to get to Gryffindor tower. _Unseen._ "

" _Hilda, I can't use it in front of him!_ " Harry whispered.

" _There's no time!_ "

Harry took a deep breath and rubbed his sleep-deprived eyes. "Fine."

* * *

"This is massively unfair," Draco muttered. "How come you get an invisibility cloak? Do you know how rare these are?"

"Yes. You've told me several times," Harry replied through gritted teeth. "One more time and I'm going to throw you out."

Hilda hushed them as they rounded a corner. Harry screeched to a halt, almost causing a catastrophic pile-up behind him.

The entire Hogwarts faculty were standing ten feet from them, staring in mute horror at a message scrawled on the corridor wall. Hilda craned her neck to see the writing. Scrawled hastily in red paint-or was it _blood_?-was a chilling message:

**HER SKELETON WILL LIE IN THE CHAMBER FOREVER**

Ron made to cry out, but three hands were swiftly clapped over his mouth. All that came out was a low moan which only Snape seemed to hear. He turned and scanned the corridor, his eyes passing over the students huddled under the cloak. Frowning, he directed his attention back to the writing on the wall.

McGonagall moved to the head of the crowd and turned to face the rest of the faculty. "Tell your house prefects to do a head count. There will be an emergency faculty meeting in one hour," she said. Her age suddenly suddenly seemed to be weighing her down.

* * *

"We have to save her!" Ron shouted, crawling through the portrait hole and into the Gryffindor common room.

"Weasley, be reasonable," Draco said. "What chance to we have facing off against a fifty-foot long snake with killer eyes and poisonous blood?"

Ron turned and grabbed the Slytherin by the collar. "She's my sister!" he snarled.

Hilda's gaze drifted from the confrontation for a moment. Her eyes went wide. "Ron."

"Easy, Weasley," Malfoy said levelly as he unclenched the ginger's grip from his robes.. "I'm not saying she shouldn't be rescued, but are we really the ones to do it?"

"She's in trouble, and we are going to save her!"

"Um, _Ron_ ," Hilda said.

"I don't care if we die, so long as we try! I wouldn't leave anyone to die in the Chamber, especially not Ginny!"

"Ron!" Hilda tugged hard on the ginger's sleeve, halting his courageous speech. She gestured with her hand. "Behind you."

" _Ron?_ " All heads turned to the couch by the fireplace. Ginny Weasley, disturbed from her dozing, sat up and rubbed the sand from her eyes. "What are you doing?"

Ron was speechless for a few moments before racing across the room and wrapped his sister in a tight hug. "Ginny! What on earth are you doing here?"

"I was trying to wait up for you," Ginny said, breaking away from the hug and pausing to gasp for air. "But I dozed off."

"We thought you were—" Ron paused to finish hyperventilating. "We thought you were taken by the monster!" he finally squeaked out.

Ginny went pale and began to shake. "So you found out," she said quietly.

"Found out what?" Hilda asked.

Ginny put her hands over her face and fell back into the sofa. "This is all my fault!"

"Slow down," Ron said, sitting beside his sister. Hilda joined them. "You're not making any sense."

Alfur leapt onto the girl's shoulder. "Start from the beginning. You need to tell us everything." Ginny flinched, looking around for the phantom voice. Hilda promised to get her the necessary paperwork after her confession.

And so Ginny told them everything: Flourish Blotts; the diary; Tom; the lapses in memory; Tom's growing abuse; the guilt and confusion and anger; her failed attempts to destroy the book; her growing loss of control, of identity, of self.

"-And so I threw the diary into Myrtle's toilet," she said, wiping a tear from her eye with the collar of her jumper. "I thought it was over. But then I came through the portrait hold that evening and saw you'd found it," she said, gesturing to Harry. "I should have thrown it into the lake, or the woods, or stuffed it in an abandoned classroom somewhere. I just had to get it back from you before Tom took over."

Harry was about to speak when the echo of footsteps on the dormitory steps silenced him. Percy Weasley appeared and paused when he saw them. "Ah, there you all are," he said. "Where on earth were you, and what in Merlin's name is Draco-bloody-Malfoy doing in our common room?"

"None of your bloody business, Percy!" Ron snapped, standing up. "Now sod off before we hex you into next Thursday!"

Percy was taken aback by his younger brother's anger. "I was just asking," he muttered. Hilda could've sworn his lip had quivered for a moment. He then counted them off. "I suppose we're all accounted for." The perfect prefect crossed the room and opened the portrait portrait. "I'll be sure to tell Professor Snape of your...presence," he said before leaving.

"It was you who ransacked the dormitory," Hilda said.

Hermione took the younger girl's hand. "Ginny, you need to give us the diary; the professors will know what to do with it."

She sat up and gave the group a look of confusion. "You don't still have it?"

"No," Harry said. "We thought you had it."

Ginny shook her head. "I don't."

"Then who does?" Ron asked.

Harry thought about it for a moment. Then he gave a start as he remembered. "Oh...oh no."

"What?" Hilda asked.

 _Think back, Hilda,_ the voice whispered.

So Hilda did:

* * *

_"I don't need to take this from you. You don't know what I'm going through!"_

_"Whatever," Frida stood up as well, collecting her bags. "I'm going to the library."_

_"Good, I'll know not to bother you there."_

_Frida stormed off. As she reached the door, she collided with Harry, who had been running late and had dashed into the Hall. The books in both of their hands went flying. Harry swore, then bent to pick them up. "I'm sorry, Frida. Let me help."_

_"I'm can do it!" Frida snapped, scooping up her books and hurrying out. Harry looked taken aback, then shrugged and grabbed his books from the floor._

* * *

_Hilda leaned across the table. "Do you have it?"_

_"Yep," Harry, rummaged through his books, then frowned. "Oh, I guess I left it in my dormitory in my hurry to get down here."_

* * *

_Draco was about to respond with a cutting remark when they rounded the corner and nearly collided with Hermione and David outside of Myrtle's toilet. "Watch it!" he snarled, regaining his balance._

_"Hilda!"_

_"Hi, David. What's with the mirrors?"_

_"We'll explain when we get to dinner," Hermione said quickly. "Now c'mon."_

_"Where's Frida?"_

_"She left the library before us," David said._

_"Alone? We have to get her!"_

_Malfoy snorted. "She's probably already at dinner, or holed up in the Ravenclaw common room with the other study nuts."_

* * *

_Hilda sat by the hospital bed, one hand resting in David's cold hand. She had been there all night, hoping against all odds that David would come out of his spell, that he would blink up at her and smile. But he didn't. Frida hadn't shown her face, which only angered Hilda more. "Some friend," she muttered._

* * *

Hilda's gasped, her eyes widening in horror. " _No._ "

* * *

They grabbed the invisibility cloak and rushed across the castle to the headmaster's office. For lack of room under the cloak, Ginny, Hermione and Draco stayed behind; they promised to meet up in Myrtle's toilet one hour from then.

" _Creme eggs,_ " Harry whispered. The gargoyle stepped aside, and they hurried up the stairs.

Hilda had never seen Dumbledore's office before. She wasn't as awe-struck as Harry had been his first time inside; it corresponded very closely with how she imagined his office to look. Still, it was impressive.

However, they had more pressing matters at hand as they slipped inside and crept through the gathering of professors to a vacant corner. No one sensed their presence, save a large, gorgeously red-feathered bird who sat perched on a stand beside the headmaster's desk; its curious gaze followed them across the room. " _It's Dumbledore's pet phoenix,_ " Harry informed Hilda. "He _looks a lot better than when I last saw him._ "

" _How so?_ "

" _He_ _'s not on fire._ "

Before Hilda had a chance to ask for elaboration McGonagall stepped to the center of the room. The gathered staff went quiet and gave her their full attention. "Has everyone done a head count?" she asked. The four heads of house nodded. "Who is missing?"

"No one from Slytherin," Snape began. "Although young Mr. Malfoy is in Gryffindor Tower, for reasons...inconceivable."

"All 'Puffs are accounted for," Sprout reported.

"And I have all of my Gryffindors," McGonagall said. "Filius?" she asked, turning to the diminutive Charms professor.

"All but one," Flitwick said, ashen-faced. He shook his head. "Miss Aiken is nowhere to be found."

Hilda bit her lip and commanded eyes to stay dry. She'd hoped for Harry to be wrong, hoped with all of her might.

McGonagall sighed and collapsed into Dumbledore's ergonomic desk chair. "So, what on earth can we do?"

"What indeed," Filch said, stepping forwards.

" _Who's that?_ " Ron asked.

In spite of the situation, Hilda gave a thin smile: in his hurry the caretaker had neglected to don his disguise.

"We are facing an unknown beast in an unknown environment," Filch continued, "Unsure whether the poor girl is even still alive. Even an auror would hesitate in this situation."

"We need an expert, then," Sprout said. "Someone with a history of getting out of sticky situations."

It was then that Lockhart blew into the room. "Sorry I'm late," he said, grinning. "Just got the floo call. What have I missed?"

"A student has been taken by the Heir of Slytherin, Gilderoy," McGonagall replied, barely containing her frustration. She accidentally crushed her cigarette in her hand, seemingly unmindful of the burned palm she received.

"Ah, rum luck. I suppose I won't be getting anymore sleep tonight, then?"

Filch turned to Lockhart and cocked an eyebrow. "You know you're a crap wizard, right?" he asked. In spite of the somber atmosphere, McGonagall and a few other professors burst out laughing. Which was fortunate, as that meant no one noticed three extra voices laughing along with them.

Lockhart puffed himself up. "Well, I'm a best-selling author and a world-renowned expert in magical creatures, so I think I'm doing pretty well for myself, _Squib_."

"Really, Argus, this is hardly helpful," Pomona said, covering her mouth.

Snape gave the widest smirk Hilda had ever seen on the dour man. "Though it does gave me an idea," Snape said, stepping away from his spot against the wall. "Why don't you put your recognized talents to good use."

Lockhart stepped back. "What are you saying, Severus?"

"Well, who better to fight the beast of the Chamber than you?" he asked. "I'm sure it wouldn't be at all difficult to track down the entrance and slay the monster. You've done it countless times before. I seem to remember you talking on about an adventure you had regarding the discovery of the Ark of the Covenant. If you can face Nazi muggles and biblical magic armed only with a bullwhip, then this will be a walk in the park."

Lockhart blanched. "Well, I mean, I do have some theories, but really, it's such short notice."

Snape leaned forwards, grinning like the Cheshire Cat. It was _very_ unsettling. "Use that fabled Lockhart ingenuity."

"I'll admit, Severus has raised an excellent idea," McGonagall said. "And we really have no options left-"

"I'm sure we have _some_ ," Gilderoy interjected. "The Aurors, perhaps? They have the numbers, remember. Sure, they'll lose a few, but that's the hazard of the job. Builds character, tool."

"In the time it will take for the Aurors to arrive," Snape said. "Miss Aiken could be dead. There really is no alternative."

"Well, I'm not prepared, I have no equipment-"

McGonagall ignored him. "All in favor of Lockhart putting his talents to good use, give a show of hands." Everyone obliged. "All opposed?" Lockhart opposed. "Well, then it's settled. Good luck, Gilderoy," she said, shaking the DADA professors quivering hand. She pulled him close to whisper in his ear. " _If you can't save her, don't bother coming back._ "


	19. Once More Unto the Breach

With Gilderoy Lockhart's courageous (though involuntary) quest declared, the professors filed out mournfully. All but Filch, who wandered over to Fawkes. "Hello, boy," he said, scratching the phoenix under the beak. "You miss him, don't you?" The bird gave a low keening reply. He followed Fawkes's gaze, a smirk spreading over his face. Striding over to the door, he turned the lock and then spun around, crossing his arms and fixing his gaze to a spot about three feet in front of him. "You'd better show yourselves," he said aloud to the seemingly empty room, "Lest I go fetch McGonagall."

Hilda materialized suddenly, a surprised look on her face. "How did you know?"

Filch gestured to the bird. "Intuition," he replied. "Also, it's not often you see three pairs of phantom shoes tiptoeing across the room. What on earth are you doing up here."

Harry pulled the cloak off. "Why should we tell you?" he demanded. "We don't even know who you are."

Filch rolled his eyes. "Oh, Merlin's sake." He stretched, then bent over, squinting his eyes up and sneering. " _First-years in the halls after hours, eh? Come, Mrs. Norris, hunt!_ "

Ron and Harry went wide-eyed. "No way," Ron muttered. Hilda was grinning ear to ear before she remembered the situation they were in. "We know what lives in the Chamber of Secrets, and who's behind it all."

They brought him up to speed quickly, leaving out a few choice moments. Filch nodded when they mentioned the spiders. "I see," he whispered. "Spiders fear the basilisk. It all makes sense. So you're saying this strange book, Tom Riddle's diary, has possessed Miss Weasley and is now possessing Miss Aiken?"

"That's the gist of it, we think," Harry said.

Filch shook his head. "We'd better tell Little Lord Gilderoy about this. As much as I'd love to see him get killed, he's our only hope."

* * *

Filch was swearing up a storm. The Defense Professor's classroom had been hurriedly ransacked. "Where did he go?" Harry asked, looking through a hurriedly emptied desk drawer. "Do you think the basilisk got him?"

Filch shook his head. "He's doing a runner!"

At that moment, Lockhart emerged from the back room, dragging a massive portmanteau behind him. He froze upon noticing Filch and the students. "Oh, hello Argus, children," his grin was pasted on, and a bead of sweat was running down his nose. "I was just...looking for my hunting gear. Where could it be? Maybe it's in here." With that, he threw open the trunk lid and dove headfirst right into it.

"No you don't!" Argus raced across the room and jumped into the trunk in pursuit, the lid clanging shut behind him. As the three students watched, the chest started rocking and hopping, and muffled shouts and curses could be heard within. Every so often the sound of smashing furniture, broken crockery, and shattering glass could be heard ("Bigger on the inside," Ron explained). After about a minute, the lid flew open and a noticeably bruised and battered Lockhart was bodily thrown out amid a storm of feathers and torn pages from his books. Filch followed, his shirt collar ripped and his nose bloodied. Lockhart staggered to his feet and made for the door. "Stop him!"

Hilda looked around, his gaze falling to a copy of _Magical Me_ lying on the desk. She grabbed it, wound up her arm, and chucked it after Lockhart. The fleeing professor was struck dead-on in the back of the head by his own book and fell to the ground with a thud and a groan. Gilderoy's portraits winced in unison.

Filch nodded in approval. "Unorthodox but effective. I was going to suggest the Body-Bind Curse. One hundred points to Gryffindor." Filch walked over to the stunned Professor and hauled him up by the lapels of his stupid yellow robe. "You have ten seconds to explain, Gilderoy, or you're going out the window."

"Wait, wait, wait!" Lockhart said, eyes wide in terror. "You don't understand!"

"You were about to flee the castle and leave our friend to die!" Hilda shouted.

"I can't save her, Miss Dahl!" Gilderoy replied. "I just can't!"

"I want a straight answer, Gilderoy," Filch hissed, draggin the professor towards the nearest window and throwing open the sash.

"Ok!" Lockhart shouted, "Fine!" He broke free of Filch and staggered back. "I'm a fraud! I'm a liar and a cheat and a swindler. Happy?"

"What about the adventures in your books?" Ron asked

"Obviously lies," Harry said. "You'd have to be an idiot not to realize it."

"I agree," Filch said, smirking. "Probably couldn't find his way out of a tea pot."

"I may not be good at many things," Gilderoy said, puffing up like a peacock. "But I am _very_ good at memory charms."

"You stole people's memories," Filch muttered, his face turning a shade of purple Harry called 'The Vernon Special'. "How dare you!"

"They don't even realize what they've lost," Lockhart replied. "What's the damage there?"

"It's illegal!" Filch said, grabbing the professor by the collars again. "You took away a part of themselves and left them with a hole they can't explain or repair. You took them and you robbed the things that made them special, without consent, without mercy, without even pausing to think!"

"You ought to be in Azkaban," Harry said, jabbing the professor with his wand. "Not Hagrid."

Gilderoy looked over at his desk. "Listen, there are a thousand galleons in a secret compartment in the bottom drawer. You can have it, just don't turn me in."

Filch pushed the professor back against the desk and wiped his hands on his shirt front. "Forget your money," Filch said disgustedly. "We're not going to turn you in."

"Really?"

"No, not really, you stupid git! Of course we are."

"But not yet! You're going to help us first," Hilda said.

"Help you?" Lockhart went pale as a china plate. "Oh, Merlin, no."

* * *

They were a few minutes late to the rendezvous with Alfur, Draco, Ginny and Twig. "What's Professor Lockhart doing here?" Draco asked.

"He's courageously volunteered to lend his expertise," Filch explained.

"Then why is he tied up? Also, who's this guy?"

"It's-" Hilda began then sighed. "Oh, nevermind, I'm sick of explaining it."

"Is this a party?" Myrtle appeared through the floor and appraised them dolefully. "I suppose I'm not invited. Typical, don't invite the dead girl, she'll _kill_ the mood."

"Oh, Merlin," Ron and Draco muttered in unison. They glanced at one another in surprise.

Harry, however, remembered something. "Myrtle, may I ask…" he began, choosing his words very carefully. "...How you died?"

Filch cocked an eyebrow. "What is this about, Potter?"

Myrtle appraised the group warily. "Why should I tell you anything?" she asked. "None of you like me; you're probably just here to mock me."

Lockhart looked at the girl with confusion. "When did a student die at Hogwarts?" he asked.

"Not since 1945," Filch replied. "When the Chamber was last—Ahhh… of course."

Hilda stepped closer to the ghost. "Myrtle, another girl is in danger: you can help us save her."

Myrtle went wide-eyed. "You...you need my help?" she asked. Her lip began quivering, and for a moment Hilda was afraid she'd burst into tears and flee. Thankfully, she got herself together, straightened up, and floated down so she was eye-level with the students. "What can I do to help?"

"We need to know exactly what happened up to your death," Harry said.

"Ok, well, I was trying to hide from Olive Hornby-she was teasing me about my glasses—" Harry nodded in sympathy. "I know I wasn't supposed to be out past the curfew, but I couldn't bear the thought of going back to the dormitory all teary-eyed—they called me Moaning Myrtle back then, and I wasn't even dead yet!

"Anyway, I ducked into this toilet because I nearly ran into Tom Riddle."

"You knew Tom Riddle?" Harry asked.

Myrtle sniffed. "Everyone knew him: Tom _Marvolo_ Riddle; silly name, if you ask me."

"I know, right?" Ron interrupted. A chorus of hushes silenced him. "Sorry, go on."

"Little Mr. Perfect. Everyone thought he was Merlin reincarnated, but I thought there was something wrong about him: he could be cruel, and he never forgot an insult. I didn't want him to catch me out, so I hid in my stall-" she pointed across the room. "And but he came in after me. _'Myrtle,'_ he called out. ' _Come out, come out wherever you are._ '" She shivered. "When I didn't come out, he started whispering."

"What was he saying?" Filch asked.

"I don't know," the ghost replied. "I couldn't understand it. It was almost like he was _hissing_."

" _A Parselmouth_ ," Draco mumbled.

"Finally, I had enough, so I stood up-I nearly slipped, the floor was covered in water- the door open and was about to hex him when I saw…" she drifted off for a moment, eyes fixed on the circle of sinks in the center of the room. "... _those eyes._ " she wiped a phantom tear from her eye. "And then I died," she said simply.

Harry walked over to the sinks and inspected them. One of the faucets-the one facing Myrtle's stall, had the engraving of a snake etched into the copper pipe. " _Open,_ " he hissed, and stepped back as the entire fixture began to spin and sink into the ground, revealing a spiraling staircase. He peered down into the darkness. "Let's go," he said.

Filch grabbed the boy by the shoulder and pulled him back. "Wait!" he looked over at Lockhart. "You first." Lockhart gulped, but obeyed. The students followed close behind. "Be careful, though," Filch warned. "These steps could be booby-trapped."

It was then that Lockhart stumbled and fell into a wall-sconce. The sconze rotated ninety degrees, and a loud click echoed among the students.

Filch froze, then looked down. "Oh, bugger."

A second later, the stone steps collapsed out from under them. The students fell and tumbled down the chute, their screams fading into echoes as they slid further and further into the darkness. Myrtle peered down and grimaced. "That had to hurt."

* * *

Hundreds of miles away, Johanna Dahl sat bolt upright, her sleep suddenly extinguished by a feeling of overwhelming dread. " _Hilda's in the Chamber of Secrets_ ," she whispered before leaping out of bed and scrambling for her clothes.

Two minutes later, she was racing down the stairs and into the kitchen. Tontu and the Woodman were sitting at the kitchen table, drinking a glass of wine and reading in convivial silence. Tontu looked up from a copy of _Good Nestkeeping_ magazine. "Where are you going?"

"Hogwarts!" she shouted, grabbing a handful of Floo powder from the pot on the mantel. "Hold the fort down while I'm gone!" She added before leaping into the flames and vanishing.

A second later, there was a knock at the front door. Tontu answered it and found Cornelius Fudge on the porch, surrounded by three wizards in black hooded robes. "Ms. Dahl!" he asked. The Minister of Magic looked positively frantic. His gaze fell to the Nisse. "You...where is Ms. Dahl?"

"She's...out," Tontu replied.

"Well, when she gets back, tell her I'll be waiting in the drawing room." He turned to the aurors. "You three, search the house. Spell to kill if necessary."

"Is everything alright?"

Cornelius removed his bowler hat and ran a hand through his thinning head. "I'm afraid not, we've had an escape at Azkaban: Sirius Black is loose. On an unrelated note," he stepped aside to reveal a giant black hound, its leg wrapped in a makeshift bandage. "Is this your dog?"


	20. The Lone Rider and the Memory Thief

Hilda groaned and opened her eyes. A small figure was picking itself off the ground about six inches in front of her nose. "Goodness," Alfur said. "That was unpleasant," he looked around in confusion.

"Are you alright?" Hilda asked.

"Yes, only I seem to have lost my hat. What about you, Hilda?"

"I'm fine," she said, sitting up. "How long were we falling?"

 _Five minutes,_ the Voice informed her. _Luckily I couldn't feel a thing._

 _"Good for you."_ Hilda turned to look at the rest of the party. Harry was seeing to Ron, who appeared to have knocked his head on a rock and was out cold. Draco was coming to; besides some cuts to his face and some skinned wrists, he seemed alright. Filch was sitting against a rock, biting his tongue as Ginny tested his leg. "Broken," he muttered. "Blast."

Hilda noticed something at her feet. Bending over, she came up with a length of rope in her hand. "Where's Lockhart?"

_At your six. Roll._

Hilda cartwheeled aside as a stunning spell passed inches from her head. "Everyone take cover!"

Gilderoy swore and fired off another. Hilda dove behind a rock and reached into her robe. Panic struck as she realized her wand was missing. _"Looking for something, Miss Dahl?"_ Lockhart called out. Harry and Draco drew their wands and returned fire, their shots going wide and bouncing off the walls. The cave shook, bits of rock falling from above. _"It didn't have to be like this, you know!"_ Lockhart called out. _"You should have taken the galleons and let me leave."_

"Surrender, Gilderoy!" Filch shouted, pushing himself to one foot, his face pale from the agony of a compound fracture. "You're outnumbered: either face us or face the basilisk: which way do you want to go?"

_"I like my chances here better, thank you very much."_

"You won't get away with this!" Hilda shouted, poking her head up. She ducked as a spell chipped the top of her cover.

_"I think I will, Miss Dahl. If I'm lucky, you won't remember a thing."_

_Hilda,_ the Voice commanded. _Rock._

Hilda's hand began to glow. She punched the stone she was hiding behind. It exploded, a large chunk striking Gilderoy in the chest and bowling him over. He somersaulted several times before hitting the far wall. Hilda stood and raised her hand: her wand stopped mid-fall and zoomed across the room. She grabbed it and grinned.

_You're welcome._

_Show off._

Harry slowly walked over to Lockhart and knelt beside him. "I think he's knocked out," he said. A second later a fist caught him under the chin and knocked him back. Gilderoy crawled furiously across the floor towards Ron and pulled the boy's wand from his robe pocket. "Nobody move!" He jumped to his feet, blood running down his face. His smile was gone, replaced by an angry snarl. He aimed Ron's wand at Harry. "Drop the wands or I start using the Unforgivables." Harry, Draco and Hilda obeyed. "Now, I think I'll start with you first, Miss Dahl. Don't worry: this won't hurt a bit. Or maybe it will, but you probably won't remember. _Obliviate!_ "

There was a loud crack as Ron's taped-up wand exploded violently in the Defense professor's hand. Was enveloped in smoke and fire. A second later, the ceiling above their heads gave a final, heaving groan and collapsed, burying them all under a mountain of rubble.

* * *

The Floo network is a marvelous, complicated piece of spellcraft. Like the telephone, it has brought the Wizarding World one step closer to the modern era: short-to-medium distance travel could be done without the danger of apparition, the discomfort of portkeys, or the exposure of the broomstick. Of course, it wasn't without its faults: like any good bureaucratic operation, the Floo connection network was an overly-complicated, understaffed mess that broke down if someone so much as sneezed mid-Floo.

In light of this, Floo Operator (In-Training) Mildred Hubble was feeling intensely nervous. A mishap earlier that day involving the misdirecting of a group of Belgian tourists to the Hall of Prophecies had her on very thin ice, both from her supervisor and the Unspeakables. She had been swiftly reassigned to the Trolheim-Britain Regional Center, and was told in no uncertain terms that one more slip-up would have her sacked.

A frantic buzzing made Mildred glanced up from her paperwork. Someone was trying to get through to the operator. Mildred took a deep breath as she adjusted her headset before plugging in. "Good evening, this is Commuter Services, how may I help you?"

Level with Mildred's face was a small, gas-fired lantern. The lantern turned green, and a woman's face appeared. " _Thank goodness, I've been on hold for ages!_ " Johanna said. " _I need to be directed to Hogwarts immediately._ "

"That may take a few minutes, Ma'am," Mildred said, eying the switchboard warily. "That's a controlled line: I'll need to get permission from my supervisor."

 **" _No! No supervisor! I need to get through now, do you hear me?_ "** Johanna shouted. Mildred flinched and lowered the volume on her headset. " _My daughter is in terrible danger!_ "

"Ok, ok," Mildred found Johanna's extension. She then looked for the Hogwarts line. _"Three up, two across,"_ she whispered, trying to remember the location of the jack. She plugged Johanna in, and the woman's face vanished from the lantern.

* * *

Johanna tumbled out of the fireplace, landing in a graceless heap before a large four-poster bed. "Ow," she muttered.

"Hello?" One of the inhabitants of the four-poster sat up, removing her face-mask. "Who's there?" Johanna peered over the footboard, quickly ducking down as she recognized the speaker. "Philip! Wake up!"

" _Mmmm?_ Lizzie? What's wrong? Are we being blitzed again?"

"No, there's someone in the room with us?"

" _Again?_ It'd better not be that bloody Irishman. I should've shot the little Potato-muncher when I had the chance."

"I'm calling the guards."

"Don't, I'll get the shotgun."

Johanna heard the cocking of a hammer. Before the old man could get his slippers on she scurried across the floor and dove back into the fireplace.

* * *

" _Hello again._ "

Mildred gave a start and looked up. The woman from before was staring out of the gas flame at her, looking rather put out. "Did I not send you to Hogwarts Castle?"

" _Balmoral_ _Castle._ "

"...Oh." Mildred winced. "A thousand apologies, I'll put you through now."

" _Thank you._ "

* * *

Johanna stumbled on her feet as she came through. For some reason, she felt as though she'd been squeezed through a grate.

"Onslow! Someone's come through the space heater!"

"Bloody 'ell! Get the cricket bat."

**BANG!**

Johanna leapt aside. The shot destroyed the space heater in a shower of sparks.

"Daddy, no! Help me, Onslow: he thinks he's back in the Ardennes!"

Johanna grabbed the Webley from the old man's hand and raced through the grubby flat and into the front garden. As she ran past an old sedan on blocks a dog's head appeared through the driver's window and snarled. Johanna nearly fell into the shrubbery, but quickly recovered and kept running, stopping only when she felt she'd put a mile between herself and the flat. It was then that she realized she was still holding the Webley. She stuffed it into her purse for later before walking up to the nearest flat and knocking on the door.

A man answered in his pajamas and appraised her suspiciously. Johanna waved. "Good evening, may I use your fireplace for just a moment?"

* * *

Mildred was counting the dots on the popcorn ceiling when her the gas jet lit up again.

_"Really, now, this is intolerable!"_

Mildred nearly fell out of her chair. "I'm sorry?"

_"You sent me to all the way to damn West Ham!"_

"West Ham, ma'am?"

_"West Ham."_

"Damn, sorry, ma'am. Let me try again!"

_"Wait, on second thought I would like to talk to your supervisor."_

" _Kssh_ —Sorry, ma'am— _ksssh_ —bad— _kssh_ —connection— _ksssh_ —"

_"You know I can see you, right?"_

Mildred hurriedly put her through another line.

* * *

Johanna stepped through the fireplace and looked around in confusion. She was in a large chamber of some kind, its walls marked with glowing round tiles and bookshelves. In the center of the room, a white-haired man in a black Crombie-coat stood hunched over a control console, his back to her. "What on earth?"

At this the man turned and looked nonplussed. "What?"

"Where am I?"

"What?"

"Is this Scotland? Your accent sounds pretty close."

" _...What?!_ "

Johanna shook her head and turned back to the fireplace. "I'm just going to go," she said. "Sorry for bothering you."

As the man watched, the impossible woman turned and threw a handful of powder into the fireplace before stepping in and vanishing. He turned back to the console. "How long have we had a fireplace?" he muttered.

* * *

_"I'm starting to get very cross now."_

Mildred glance up at the gas jet and groaned. "Where did I send you this time?"

_"...An excellent question, and one I don't have an answer to."_

Something seems to be wrong with the network," she lied. "If you'd just wait a moment I'll place a call to the Floo Technology office for their assistance."

_"Don't you dare put me on hold—"_

Mildred winced as she paged the Floo Technology office.

" _Hello, FT,_ " a bored Irishman said upon answering. " _Have you tried turning it off and on again?_ "

"Rats!" Mildred hung up and switched back to Johanna. She searched the switchboard frantically. Her eye finally fell on a bank of jacks labeled _'Scotland'_. "Putting you through now, ma'am," She said, just crossing her fingers and picking one at random.

* * *

"Isn't this romantic?" Petunia asked.

"Sure is," Vernon said, pausing to grab a sausage roll from a plate beside the sofa. "Room service, satellite television, a roaring fire. Almost makes Scotland palatable."

"You worked hard for that promotion. You deserved this." Petunia settled into her husband's arms. "Tomorrow I was thinking we could put the top down on the car and drive along the lake."

"Sounds lovely. Pass the Scotch eggs, love?"

Petunia had only just picked up the plate when the fireplace suddenly turned green and belched a young woman, who rolled across the floor to stop at their feet. Petunia screamed and threw the plate clear across the room. Vernon swore and jumped back, overturning the entire sofa and dumping him and his wife onto the floor.

Johanna picked herself up and looked around. By now, her face was nearly black with soot, and she could swear that her hair was singed. She looked around at the room and swore. "That girl is going to hear from her supervisor," she muttered. She grabbed Vernon's napkin and wiped down her face, stopping to grab a sausage roll.

Petunia and Vernon poked their heads out from behind the sofa. "You!" Petunia screeched. "Get out this instant!"

"I'm going, I'm going!" Johanna reached into her purse for another handful of Floo powder, but came up dry. "Oh, damn."

"We came all the way to Scotland, and the freaks still found us!"

"Scotland?" Johanna perked up at the mention. "That's it! Where are we?" She pulled a map of the Floo network from her pocket and consulted it carefully. "Only ten miles from Hogwarts." She looked up at the Dursleys. "I need your car."

"Absolutely not!" Vernon climbed to his feet and picked up a floor lamp, holding it before him menacingly. "You're going to get out of here and leave us be."

"You don't understand!" Johanna stepped back as the fat man took a swing. "Oh, for Merlin's sake. I was hoping it wouldn't come to this." She reached back into her purse and came up with the Webley. Petunia and Vernon screamed as she fired a warning shot into the ceiling. Johanna stepped forward, open hand outstretched. " **Give me your ****ing keys, Fat Man!** " When Vernon was too slow, she loosened off a second round. _"_ ** _I am not ****ing around! KEYS! NOW!_** _"_ Petunia grabbed the key ring from her paralyzed husband and tossed it to Johanna. "Thanks very much. I'll try and have it back by morning."

Johanna tore down the emergency stairs, through the lobby (where she body-checked an unfortunate security guard who had gotten in her way), and out into the parking lot. Standing among the identical beige sedans, she pressed the key fob and followed the flashing headlights. "Good grief," she said as she caught sight of Vernon's car. "Men and their toys."

Johanna didn't know much about cars, but the red orange sports car in front of her looked fast, which was all she needed. Climbing behind the wheel, she leaned over and fished around in the glovebox until she found a survey map of Scotland. With a penlight, she overlaid the Floo Network map over it and grinned as she pinned down the general location of Hogwarts. "Too easy," she muttered as she turned the key in the ignition.

Vernon emerged from the hotel lobby flanked by hotel security. "There she is! Stop that witch!" A guard grabbed Vernon and pulled him back as the Triumph roared past them and out of the lot, leaving the smell of burning rubber and its fading tail lights behind it.

* * *

"Sooooo," Tontu said, fiddling with his hands. "Would anyone like some tea?"

In the sofa opposite him, Cornelius Fudge and the aurors sat, looking equally uncomfortable. Cornelius blinked at the Nisse in confusion before lighting up. "Yes, yes. Tea. Lovely," he muttered. Tontu nodded before squeezing between the couch cushions and vanishing with a flash of light.

A sudden burst of horns startled everyone. The aurors drew wands and looked around for the source. The Woodman looked up from the record player, snapping one finger to the smooth Jazz drifting from the speakers. "Sorry," the Woodman said, not sounding sorry at all. "I thought some music would lighten the mood." He walked over to the fire and sat down next to the big black dog, who was dozing peacefully in the warmth.

One of the aurors leaned in towards the Woodman. "How does your head stay on?"

"Magic."

"Ah, I suppose that makes sense."

Cornelius's gaze landed on the billiard table. "Anyone fancy a game of snooker?"

The Woodman stood up. "I'm down, provided there's money on the table."

"We start the pot at ten knuts?"

"I won't go any lower than a galleon," the Forest Spirit replied with a scoff.

"Deal." Fudge stood up and turned to the aurors. "Which one of you's the best shooter?" The middle one raised his hand. "Ah, Shacklebolt! You're with me, then."

The Woodman cracked his knuckles. " _Game on._ "

* * *

Hilda awoke to darkness. " _Lumos,_ " she was in a small cavity surrounded by rubble. She raised her hand to the large rock above her and gave it a tentative push. "Help!" she cried out.

_"Hilda!"_

She heard footsteps clambering towards her. A moment later the rock overhead was pulled out of the way, and two pairs of hands reached in. Harry and Draco pulled her out and dusted her off. "Thanks," she said, wincing as she touched her side. "I think I cracked a rib," she muttered. She looked around. "Where's everyone else?"

"Well, Lockhart's probably at the bottom of this pile," Harry replied. "The rest are on the opposite side of the cave-in."

Hilda noticed a crack of light emanating from a fist-sized gap at the top of the mound. "Ginny, Mr. Filch?"

" _Hilda!_ " Filch called out. " _Don't worry! We're fine. Well, not fine, per se; I think my other leg is broken now, too, and Weasley's still conked out. Don't worry, we're acceptable!_ "

"Can you get through?"

" _I don't think so,_ " Ginny replied. " _Alfur probably can, should I send him up?_ "

"No, but I do want to speak to him!"

Alfur's head appeared in the hole. "Hilda?"

"Alfur, go with Ginny to the owlery and get help."

The elf stood up straight and gave the girl a salute. "You can count on us."

"Good, now go! We have a friend to save."

"Good luck, Hilda."

"Thanks, Alfur."

" _You know,_ " Filch called out, pausing to cough. " _In hindsight maybe we should have gone for help in the first place, rather than blindly jump down a hole into a monster's lair._ "

She climbed back down the pile and joined Draco and Harry. "Are you ready?" she asked. The two boys shook their heads. "Good, neither am I."

* * *

It was a quiet winter's night in Hogsmeade. The door to the Three Broomsticks opened, the yellow glow from within illuminating the dark streets. Madame Rosmerta came out, pushing along a stumbling inebriate. "Come on, Zonko, you've had enough."

 _"Gist wan moor,"_ the man slurred.

"Absolutely not. Are you walking home?" Zonko shook his head and gestured to a broomstick lying against the wall. "Absolutely not, you are in no position to fly."

_"Nunsince, I flea batter when I'm drink."_

"I'm going to Floo your wife." Rosmerta turned to head back inside when she stopped her in her tracks. There was a strange roaring noise in the distance that was steadily getting louder. Although long an establishment of Hogsmeade, she had still been born to a muggle family in the West Midlands. Therefore, she recognized the noise. "Is that...an _engine_?"

The two looked to their right and spotted a pair of headlights quickly growing closer and closer. Rosmerta grabbed onto her hat and pulled Zonko back as a bright red blur shot past them, striking a pothole and going airborne momentarily. At the end of the high street, it pulled a ninety-degree handbrake turn and shot off like a rocket, the noise of its engine qucikly diminishing.

" ** _****ing ****!_** " Zonko shouted, suddenly several degrees more sober. "What the bloody hell was that?"

"I believe that was a 1975 Triumph TR7 drophead coupe," Rosmerta replied. "It's heading straight towards Hogwarts."

Zonko shook his head. "I need a drink."

"Don't start that again!"


	21. The Snake Charmer

The tunnel seemed to stretch on for miles—that, or the mounting second thoughts of the three students had stretched the walk into hours. When the three students reached the end of the tunnel and emerged into the Chamber of Secrets, they almost breathed in relief. Draco paused to take in the grotesque grandeur of the room. "Merlin," he said, his voice echoing. "It's real."

Hilda and Harry didn't pay him any mind. As soon as they laid eyes on the girl lying on her side in the center of the room, they were splashing towards her. " _Frida!_ " Hilda dropped to her knees and shook the girl. "Wake up, we have to go!" Harry dropped down beside Hilda and studied Frida. The girl was cold to the touch, her lips blue. Her eyes stared to the ceiling unblinking. Beside her lay Tom Riddle's diary, flipped open to a blank page.

"Is she…" Hilda began. She couldn't bring herself to finish.

"She's alive." Hilda and Harry glanced up in surprise as the voice. A young man in school robes stepped out from behind a column and walked slowly towards them, his steps leaving no ripples in the water. " _For now._ The ritual is almost complete." Harry drew his wand. Tom Riddle rolled his eyes as a stunning spell flew past his ear. " _Gryffindors._ Always acting, never thinking." A second stunning spell shot towards him. This time, Tom didn't bother to move as the spell passed harmlessly through his body. He looked past Hilda and Harry and frowned at the spell's caster. "A Slytherin? I expected better of my house. Guess there's a rotten one in every year."

"You're the rotten one," Malfoy snarled as he stopped beside Hilda.

"What have I done to deserve such a chilly reception?"

"You know exactly what you've done," Hilda growled, standing up. "It was you who opened the Chamber: _both times_. You possessed Ginny, and then you possessed Frida!"

"You killed Myrtle!" Harry added, his wand still trained on the Slytherin.

"Myrtle?" Tom scoffed. "Ah, yes, the poor, poor Mudblood. Hardly impressive, is it? Everyone else was so bloody lucky to only get petrified: what were the odds of that? I tried so **_hard_** ," he hissed, his eyes suddenly flashing red, "and the only person I managed to kill was that sniveling girl."

"Why?" Hilda asked. "Why do this?"

Tom smirked. "Do you really expect me to confess everything?"

"You don't seem like the modest sort, Tom," Harry said.

"Ah, ten points to Gryffindor." Tom clapped his hands mockingly. "I suppose I can humor you both: last requests and whatnot. I did it because I could, Miss Dahl, and because it felt good."

Hilda shook her head. "There's more to it than that. Why come back fifty years later— _as a ghost, no less—_ to finish what you started?"

Tom held up his hand and inspected it. "Not a ghost, Miss Dahl: a memory." Harry noticed he could faintly see the wall through Tom's body. "I was just a shade in that journal," he said. "A fragment of myself, waiting to break out. Fortunately, poor Ginny Weasley came along and made things so simple. I took control of her, and started draining her lifeforce. I'd have come back much sooner if the brat hadn't thrown me into a cauldron. But then Miss Aiken came and filled the void. Fortunately, she was just as insecure, just as weak as Weasley: I was able to make up for lost time with startling efficiency." Tom gazed down at the unconscious girl. "Yes, she did a good job. Smart girl, in spite of her naivety. Pity she has to die for it."

Harry dropped down beside Frida and resumed his attempts to wake her. "Really, Potter, it's no use. In a matter of minutes, she'll be gone, and I'll be whole." Tom took a few more steps towards the students. He bent down and picked something up from the ground. "Yes, a matter of minutes," he said as he waved Frida's wand experimentally. "Not the best fit, but it will do for now."

"You won't get away with this," Harry said.

Tom gave a hard laugh that echoed throughout the chamber. "Oh, I will, Harry Potter. I'll come back to life and I'll celebrate by killing you." He leaned in towards Harry. "And this time, I'll do it right."

" _This time_?" Hilda asked.

Tom chuckled. "Miss Aiken figured it out rather quickly: quite the clever witch."

"I don't understand," Harry said.

"Of course you don't. I suppose I'll have to spell it out for you." Tom waved his hand in the air. Wisps of smoke flew from his fingers and arranged themselves into letters:

_**TOM MARVOLO RIDDLE** _

He waved his hand again, and the words rearranged themselves, creating an anagram that send a shiver rippling through the room.

" _Lord Voldemort,_ " Hilda breathed. Draco flinched at the name.

Tom smiled. "There we are, ten more points for Gryffindor. Slytherin's still not placed on the board. How disappointing." He stepped aside as a stunning spell flew past him, chipping the nose off of Slytherin's bust. Harry fired off another spell. This time Riddle deflected it. _"Bombarda."_ Harry ducked, but Hilda was too slow. The spell struck her in the chest and knocked her back, sending her still form tumbling across the hall like a rag-doll. With another spell, Harry's wand was flung from his grip, landing a fifty yards off. "That should've killed you," Riddle noted. "My magical core must still be charging."

"Bastard!" Riddle hadn't expected a physical attack. Draco had charged the wraith, rugby tackling him into the shallow water. Riddle kneed him in the stomach and rolled the young Slytherin's winded form off him.

Riddle climbed to his feet, his robes soaked and his hair disheveled. "How disappointing," he snarled. He gave the boy a kick in the ribs, cracking several and further driving the air from Draco's lungs. "Miss Weasley told me about you and your father. From what she told me I had such high hopes. You're pathetic."

Riddle looked over to Harry, as though remembering he was there. "This is getting irritating," he said. "I think it's time we put an end to this, once and for all." He turned to the massive face of Slytherin. " _Come to me._ " Harry watched as the mouth of Slytherin hinged open. From inside, the sound of something stirring reached his ears.

Something _big._

" _Are you hungry?_ " Riddle called out.

A voice replied in Parseltongue, its sibilance echoing off the walls and ceiling. " _Always._ "

Riddle looked over at Harry, his eyes flashing red in the half-light. " _Then feast._ "

Harry turned and ran as the basilisk emerged from its cave, taking cover behind a column. He kept his gaze to the ceiling, frightened to look down and spot the beast's reflection in the water. It was then he remembered Hilda and Draco, the further horror nearly overpowering him. "Draco!"

" _Potter?_ " a voice called back.

"Where are you?"

" _Behind a column. I can see you._ " Harry glanced over and breathed a sigh of relief; Draco had taken shelter in the chamber immediately opposite the chamber as him. " _Where's Hilda?_ "

At this, Harry braved a glance to the center of the room. He gasped in surprise. "I don't know! She's gone!"

It was then he saw it. The basilisk was fifty feet long, its head the size of a small car. It opened its mouth, revealing hundreds of razor-sharp claws, facing backwards to tear and swallow its prey. Draco gave a gasp of terror and quickly shut his eyes as the giant snake turned its head and zeroed in his gaze.

Harry fired a stunning spell, which bounced off of the back of the snake's head. The creature whipped around to face him, but he was running off down one of the tunnels leading off the chamber. Disappointed, the snake turned back to Draco, but he, too was gone. With a hiss of fury, it surged off in pursuit.

Riddle watched his pet give chase and grinned. He walked over to Frida and ran a hand over her cold cheek. " _Yes, soon,_ " he whispered.

A bolt of blue light struck his side. He slid twenty feet back, clenching his jaw from the pain as he looked for the source. Hilda lowered her wand, her face set in rock-solid determination. " _You're not taking anymore of my friends!_ " she shouted, another stunning spell flying from her wand.

Riddle cast a shield, but the force still send him reeling. "The strength of your core is impressive," he said. He whipped a cutting spell back at the girl. "You would've made an excellent conduit."

Hilda took the spell in the shoulder of her wand arm, a gash tore through the her layers of sleeves and cut skin. She cried out, gripping the wound with her other hand to staunch the fast-flowing blood that ran between her fingers and dripped down, turning the damp cobblestones a diffuse red. She shut her eyes and grimaced.

 _This is it_ , she thought.

_The hell it is._

Hilda opened her eyes, a blue light zeroing in on Riddle like laser sights. Tom Riddle cocked an eyebrow and barely suppressed his surprise. "Well, that's interesting."

* * *

"We've searched half the school, ma'am," Percy said. The other prefects nodded in agreement. "There's no sign of them."

"Then check the other half!" McGonagall said, her face full of terror and rage. It was shocking to see the stoic professor on the verge of tears. "Save the whinging and moaning for the hiding you'll receive if those students are harmed."

"Professor!" McGonagall turned quick enough to cause whiplash. Ginny and Ron limped into the the headmaster's office, Filch carried on on their shoulders and followed by Twig. All save the deerfox were bloodied and caked in dust.

"Where have you been?" McGonagall shouted. "I gave express orders to stay in your dormitories, and you disobeyed me! And Argus, why haven't you tanned the lot of them?"

"We found the Chamber of Secrets!" Ron replied. "It's in Myrtle's toilet."

"Are you concussed, Weasley?"

"It's true, Minerva," Filch said, his voice hoarse from exhaustion. "Where are the aurors?"

"They're snagged in the Floo network: one of the system operators had a panic attack at her station. Half of the connections are down." She suddenly noticed several absences. "Argus, where is Potter, Dahl and Malfoy?"

"In the Chamber. They went after Miss Aiken. Lockhart's there, too, although I'm pretty sure he's dead." He took a deep breath. "It's Tom, Minerva. He's back."

McGonagall paled. "Riddle. _How?_ "

There was another interruption as one of the devices on Dumbledore's desk began to spin furiously. Minerva glanced down at it, her rising to boiling. "Someone has penetrated the school wards!" the Ancient Runes instructor reported."

"Who on earth is it, and where are they now?" Percy asked.

The Weasley prefect's question was answered as a series of loud crashes and booms echoed through the corridors, followed swiftly by the furious blare of a car horn. "In the entry hall, by the sound of it," Filch reported.

They hurried down the grand staircase and found the front door half off its hinges and a Muggle sports car parked halfway up the first flight, its bonnet smoking and crumpled like a tin can. The driver's door was flung open, and Johanna Dahl stumbled out, half dazed, a pistol in one hand.

"Miss Dahl! What in Merlin's name—"

Johanna cut the assistant headmistress short as her gaze fell on Ron and Filch, and the elf perched on the Ron's head. "Alfur, where's my daughter?"

Alfur gave a nervous laugh. "Well, you see, about that, I can explain, please don't be mad."

"She's in the Chamber of Secrets, Johanna." Albus Dumbledore stepped through the castle threshold, his face placid. Fawkes the phoenix sat on his shoulder, the Sorting Hat clutched in his beak. "Have faith, all should be well." Dumbledore pointed past the students and up the stairs. "Fawkes, go to them." The bird sang in response and took off.

He looked back to Johanna, his eyes twinkling overtime. "Shall we wait for the aurors in my office? I think we could all use a glass of fire-whiskey to steady our nerves."


	22. Icarus Burns

_"My, my, you are a peculiar one. Full of surprises."_

_"I try my best to defy expectations."_

_"You have a ways to go before you can outdo me."_

_"Show me what you've got."_

"Three of a kind," Fudge laid down his cards, smiling triumphant.

The Woodman tossed his hand onto the table, sat back, and crossed his arms. "Full house."

Fudge swore. "H-how! You're cheating!"

"Minister, we've been over this several times," Shacklebolt spoke up from the chair beside the fire. "He's playing fair."

"Nonsense. No one has that much luck."

Shacklebolt glanced over at the Woodman and winked. "Luck never plays by the rules, Cornelius."

They'd gone a few rounds of pool before it became obvious that the Woodman was a pro. Fudge was down forty galleons when he suggested they switch to Poker. He'd quickly come to regret that. The large black dog had come over from the fire and was resting its head on Fudge's leg. Fudge scowled down at him; there was something in the cur's eyes that made him think it was taking great pleasure in his misery.

"This isn't over," Fudge said as the Woodman pulled his winnings across the table. "Fletcher, spot me twenty galleons."

"Who has that kinda money lyin' round?" the shabbily dressed auror asked.

"...doesn't everyone?"

The Woodman shook his head. "You really are out of touch with your constituency."

Fudge was about to rise to the Woodman's provocation when a toad-faced witch in an abomination of a pink jumper stepped out of the fireplace. "Cornelius!"

"What is it, Dolores?"

"There is a situation developing at Hogwarts. It seems Mr. Potter is involved."

Fudge leapt up, grabbing his hat and umbrella. "Good Merlin, woman! When was this reported?"

"A half-hour ago," the woman replied. "We've been trying to get in touch with you, but no one knew where you were."

"If Potter loses a single hair on his head, you're all sacked!" he pushed past Dolores and jumped through the fire. The woman followed, Fletcher right behind.

Shacklebolt stopped beside the poker table. "My cut, if you don't mind."

The Woodman nodded and pushed a pile of galleons towards the auror. "Thirty percent, as agreed. Pleasure playing with you, Kingsley."

"Likewise." The auror collected the winnings and stuffed them in his cloak before following his boss through the Floo.

"Alright! Tea's ready!" Tontu entered the room carrying a silver tray of dainty cups in his hands. He paused, taking in the empty space. "Where'd they go?"

The Woodman shrugged. "Am I supposed to keep track of other people's doings?"

"It would help."

"I reject that notion." he stood up and made his way past Tontu for the door. "I'll see you later. The fun's over."

Tontu waited until he heard the slam of the front door before he set the tray down and collapsed on the sofa. "So much for that," he muttered, grabbing a cup and taking a sip. The dog approached and sat in front of him, tail wagging like a ceiling fan. Tontu sighed and set a teacup onto the floor. "Someone might as well enjoy it."

The two hirsute creatures sat together in the dying light of the fire, drinking quietly, content in the silence of each other's company. "I wonder if Hilda's alright," the Nisse said, gazing through the window at the moon rising over Lightning Rock.

* * *

So far, Harry and Draco had done an admirable job playing whack-a-gnome with the basilisk. At one point, they'd succeeded in tying the snake into a large pretzel knot by looping around the columns.

As the snake furiously tried to untangle itself, they doubled back towards the Chamber. Draco grabbed him and pulled him back as a green jet of light flew past the sewer opening. "Stop! Those are serious curses," Draco whispered, peering around the corner. "Merlin." he breathed. Harry looked around and echoed his sentiment.

"Elemental magic," Riddle muttered, dodging a fire curse. "Not exactly standard on the first-year curriculum. What exactly are you?"

 _"_ Complicated. _"_

"That's not an answer," Riddle replied, dropping back into a dueling stance. "I showed you mine—" he began, whipping a spell through the air. _"—now show me yours!"_ Hilda was struck and sent tumbling back, landing on her feet. She swept her hand up into the air. Riddle was sent flying as the bricks underfoot burst upwards. Standing up, he noticed a smear of red on his wrist. He wiped his nose and came back with more. "Blood," he said, laughing. "I can't remember the last time I bled. I feel so alive!"

Hilda tore away her stained tattered robes. "Not for long!"

A rumbling behind them reminded Harry and Draco that they were currently in the process of running for their lives. They took off just as the basilisk rounded the corner and tore a chunk out of the stone work where the two boys had previously been standing. Harry grabbed Draco's arm. "Down here!" he said and dragged him off down a smaller side tunnel. The snake went to follow, only to find its head too wide to fit in the opening. It let out a scream of rage, knocking bricks loose as it threw itself against the hole.

It was pitch dark. They ran blindly for several feet before pitching forward over some obstacle in their path. Harry drew his wand and hurriedly cast a light spell. One look at their surroundings and he wished he hadn't. They had fallen over the side of a nest easily twice the size of the Great Raven's. Draco pointed to the center. "Look!" Harry followed his gaze. Surrounded by rat skeletons sat two perfectly round white orbs, each the size of a quaffle.

" _Merlin,_ " he whispered He turned back towards the entrance of the tunnel, which the basilisk was still attempting to get through. "She can't get to them."

"What are you saying?" Draco asked.

"Tom doesn't control the basilisk because he's the Heir," Harry gestured to the eggs. "He has hostages!"

Before Draco could stop him he grabbed the eggs and took off down the corridor. Draco looked back to the nest. "This is not how I expected the school year to go," he muttered before following after Potter.

A rumbling made Hilda turn. Frustrated from losing its prey, the basilisk had turned back in pursuit of easier quarry. Harry rounded the corner after it. "Hilda! Look away!" It was too late. their eyes met. Hilda stood stock still, staggering for a moment. Then she righted herself, looked past the snake to Riddle, and grinned.

Riddle looked back, nonplussed. "What?"

A cry directed all eyes skyward. Fawkes glided into the Chamber and attacked, his talons scratching and tearing into the basilisk's eyes. The snake thrashed and hissed, but by the time Fawkes disengaged it was blind. Fawkes doubled back and dove at Tom, talons bared. He raised his wand and fired off a curse that struck the bird dead in the breast. Fawkes burst into flame and fell to the ground, disintegrating on impact. A moment later, a small featherless chick popped from the ash and squawked furiously at Riddle, who rolled his eyes. "Oh, grow up."

Tom turned back to the basilisk. "Poor girl," he muttered. "Someone's done a number on you. Fortunately, she can still smell." The snake's head jerked back towards Hilda. _"Kill."_

 _"Stop!_ " Harry ran forward, the two eggs held before him. _"Here,"_ he said, switching to Parseltongue. _"Here is what you want."_ The basilisk leaned forward until her snout was inches from Harry's hand. Hot air from her nostrils blew against his face. She flicked her tongue along the egg. Harry watched in horror as it opened its mouth to reveal rows and rows of backwards-angled teeth, perfectly made for tearing and swallowing flesh. To his relief, it didn't attack, instead it gently scooped the two eggs up, tucking them under her tongue before turning and slithering off into the sewers.

Hilda snapped free from her trance and shook herself off. "What happened?"

"A family reunion," Harry muttered. He was about to say something when a spell struck him. He gripped his neck and gasped, blood dripping through his fingers. A lot of blood.

Too much blood.

_"Harry!"_

Harry spun around, eyes wide in shock. Riddle lowered his wand. "Look at that," he said quietly. "It was so easy. One wonders how I mucked it up the first time."

Potter dropped to his knees, desperately trying to staunch the wound in his neck. Draco ran and caught him as he toppled over, setting him down gently beside a reborn, cranky Fawkes.

Hilda looked from Harry to Tom. "You!" She grabbed her wand from the floor. "I'm going to kill you!" Before Draco could restrain her she was charging at the ghost, firing curses blindly.

Riddle rolled his eyes and fired a single stunner. She crumpled in a heap, landing beside Frida and the diary. He walked slowly across the room and knelt down, cupping his hand under Hilda's chin and lifting her head. "You're a strange one, Miss Dahl," he said. "You and whoever it is that shares your soul. There's power, great power." He gestured to the destroyed room around them. "You did this, wandwork beyond your knowledge, all out of hate, all because you wanted to destroy me and save your pathetic little friend." He shook his head. "You could do so much more, Miss Dahl, if you put your talents to good use. I could help you, Hilda. All you have to do is take my hand." He put his hand atop hers. "We're so alike."

"No," Hilda pulled free of Riddle, falling back. "We are not the same," she said.

Riddle gave a thin smile. "Not yet." He lifted his wand and pressed it to her throat. "You are in no position to refuse. I will have you, if I have to take you by force."

Hilda's crawled back, her hand brushing up against something. She looked down and saw the diary. Hilda's eyes lit up. _"You think you can control me?"_ she asked, the glow of her eyes pulsing in waves. _"Cage me up? Take me out for party tricks? Stronger people have tried. So proud, so foolish. They thought they could harness me like fire in a bottle. But they couldn't contain me,"_ She put her palm down on the cover of the book. _"And they were burned."_

Light and heat exploded from her hand, illuminating Riddle in a ghostly white glow. _"No!"_ He cried out as the diary began to crack and hiss under the girl's magic. Within seconds the book was aflame, and so was Riddle. He reached to grab Hilda, only to scream as his hand fell away into ash. He fell back onto his knees and looked up at Hilda, his face cracking and falling away in hot shards. _"What are you?"_ he screamed, his mouth a furnace of hot coals, his eyes blazing white and green jets of fire.

_"I am Aisling. Remember me. I will not be forgotten again."_

Seconds later, Tom Riddle was nothing more than a layer of ash scattering in the rippling water.

Hilda fell back, her head striking the cobbles. She heard footsteps, voices shouting her name; someone took her hand. All of the cuts and wounds suddenly ached. She felt so tired, eyes losing their focus. A head appeared over her, but her vision was too blurry to make out the features. They were talking, but no sound came from their lips. Her vision began to dim.


	23. Happily After

Johanna dashed across the Chamber and knelt down beside Hilda, lifting the still girl into her arms. "Hilda! Speak to me! Please wake up!"

Dumbledore, Snape and McGonagall appeared by her side. "Ms. Dahl, your daughter is alive," Minerva said. "Her magical core is nearly exhausted."

"Will she be alright?"

"...I don't know." She put her hand on Hilda's forehead and gave a sharp breath. "I've never seen anything like this."

Frida stirred slowly. She opened her eyes and looked up at the ceiling. " _W-what?_ " She turned her head. " _H-Hilda._ "

"She's alright, Miss Aiken," McGonagall said. "Everything's alright."

" _The diary,_ " she mumbled. " _My fault..._ "

"Nonsense. Severus, hand me that sleeping draught."

Severus was searching his bag when they all heard a rumble in the distance, followed by a hiss that echoed through the sewer network. "Dear Merlin," he said. "Is that…"

"I think we'd best make haste," McGonagall said, trying to bite back her fear.

Dumbledore moved over to Harry and knelt down beside Draco. "Oh, my poor boy."

Draco was trying in vain to staunch Harry's wounds. There was just so much blood. "Dumbledore, help me!"

"I'm this is one curse I cannot heal," the Headmaster replied.

"But he's going to die!"

"No, he won't." The Headmaster picked Fawkes up and looked him in the eye. " _C'mon, old friend. Give us a hand._ Mr. Malfoy, if you would step back, please…"

* * *

Draco woke up to find his father sitting beside his hospital bed. "Draco," he whispered, his throat hoarse. "Thank Merlin you're alright."

Draco nodded looked to his left. Harry and Hilda lay in the beds beside him, sleeping peacefully. Beyond them lay the petrified students, their faces frozen in terror. "No thanks to you," Draco muttered.

Lucius frowned. "What?"

"I know about the diary. Hilda's elf friend saw you put it in Weasley's school bag. Dobby told me everything as well."

Lucius stiffened in his seat. "Now, Draco, who would you believe, a couple of elves or your father?"

"The basilisk almost killed me!" Draco shouted, his voice echoing through the empty infirmary.

"Draco, be silent."

"You could have killed me!"

"I will not tolerate this insolence. We will speak about this later."

"No! I want to hear you say it."

Lucius stamped his cane on the ground. "You have no idea the stakes in this game, Draco. Don't you dare talk about things you know nothing about." He shook his head. "You weren't supposed to get involved," he said in a soft voice. He looked back up at Draco. "I trust you'll keep this quiet. If the truth were to come out, this family would be ruined."

Draco paused, conflict in his eyes. "I-I can't keep your secrets. Even if Hilda and Potter didn't know the truth, I can't."

"You'd turn in your own father?" Lucius pulled his wand from its cane and pressed it to his son's forehead. "Draco, take care in how you choose to answer me: will you turn me in?"

Draco betrayed no emotion. "What are you going to do? Obliviate me?" Lucius's hand began to shake. He broke eye contact with his sun and lowered his wand. "Please, go. I can give you a day's head start before I tell Dumbledore. Don't tell me where you're going, I don't care."

Lucius stood slowly. "Goodbye, Draco. I'm... I'm sorry."

"I know."

Draco listened his father's footsteps echo off down the infirmary. Only when the doors opened slammed closed did he let himself cry.

* * *

Occasionally Hilda woke from her fever, her eyes roaming blindly across the ceiling. For the most part she was lost in her dreams. Tom Riddle's hand around her neck, a snake-like face grinning at her, a scruffy-haired man with a thousand-yard stare, Rasmus Dahl lying bleeding in the snow, a beautiful blue-haired woman with hate in her eyes.

Finally, after what seemed like a lifetime of nightmares, a familiar voice broke through the fog. _"Hilda!"_

She blinked wearily and smiled. "Mum?" A second later something jumped into her lap and began to lick her arm. "Twig!"

She found herself wrapped up in a hug. "Thank goodness you're awake!" Johanna eased her daughter back onto the hospital bed. "You've been unconscious for nearly a week!"

_"A week!?"_

"You nearly died! How could you be so reckless?"

"Not reckless, Ms. Dahl." Dumbledore said as he emerged from behind a nearby column. " _Fearless._ " Hilda knew she was anything but fearless, but declined to correct him. "Putting yourself in danger to help a friend, how very Gryffindor of you."

"I'll say."

Hilda looked to her right and found Harry sitting on the next cot over. Beside him sat Ron, Draco, Hermione and David "Harry! How…?"

The boy smiled. "Phoenix tears can cure anything, apparently."

"And David, Hermione! You're alright!"

David smiled and nodded. "The Mandrakes were harvested yesterday. Everyone's right as rain."

Johanna squinted at the boy. "David, there's a spider on your shoulder."

David nodded. "Yeah, my newest friend."

The spider waved. _"Hello, nice lady!"_

Johanna waved back, a perplexed look on her face. "I suppose I shouldn't be surprised by a talking spider, the way things have been going these last few months."

Hilda looked around and noticed someone missing. "Where's Frida? Is she..."

"She's alright, Hilda," Draco replied. "She hasn't left the Ravenclaw dorms since that night, however."

"Miss Aiken is very lucky to have a friend like you, Miss Dahl," Dumbledore said. "How are you feeling?"

Hilda touched her ribs gingerly. "A little sore."

"Madame Pomfrey was able to heal most of your wounds rather easily, but some aches and pains may stick around for a while. Anything else bothering you?"

Hilda felt around. She realized that there was a strange feeling in her stomach, a sort of vacancy. _Hello?_ She asked. No response. _She's gone._ Hilda grinned. "I feel better than fine, actually."

Dumbledore leaned in and studied her, a serious look in his eyes. It soon vanished, replaced by his natural twinkle. "Hm, so you are."

"Are you sure you're alright?" Johanna repeated. Hilda nodded. "Good, because you are in _**So. Much. Trouble.**_ You could've been killed!—

" _Or expelled,_ " Hermione muttered.

Johanna's anger faltered, and she had to wipe her eyes on her shirt sleeve. "I was so scared. I thought I'd lost you forever."

"I'm sorry, mum."

Johanna sniffled. "Don't be sorry. You were only doing what you do best. I'm so angry at you, but also so proud."

"Your mother is a force to be reckoned with," Dumbledore remarked. "The second she learned you were in danger she stole a car and managed to penetrate the school wards."

"How did you even know I was in danger?"

"A mother's intuition, I suppose." Dumbledore shrugged. "That or second sight."

"Rubbish," Hermione said. "There's no such thing."

"Don't be so sure, Miss Granger."

"Dumbledore," Harry asked. "Is Tom Riddle gone?"

Dumbledore shook his head, his beard swinging like a pendulum. "No, I don't think so. The man you met in the Chamber was but a memory of Tom."

"But the Dark Lord is dead!" Malfoy said. "Harry killed him."

Harry shook his head. "No, I didn't. I met him last year. He tried to kill me."

"Yes," Dumbledore looked out one of the infirmary windows. A light snow was falling outside. "Tom is not dead, merely broken. I fear we haven't seen the last of him."

Malfoy shuddered. "Well, that's reassuring."

There was a commotion outside. The infirmary doors opened as Shacklebolt and Filch entered the hall carrying a stretcher between them. Filch looked triumphant. Clear that bed, children!" Harry, Draco, Hermione, and David stood aside as the patient was lowered none-too-gently onto the bed. "Look who we just dug out of the cave-in."

Hilda scowled when she recognized the man. "Lockhart!"

The bloodied, dust-caked figure on the stretcher sat up and smiled at the students. "Oh, hello! Pleased to meet you, I'm Gilderoy Lockhart...apparently."

"A stone really conked him hard," Filch said, grinning down at the professor. "With that and the rebounding memory charm, the rat can't even remember his own name."

"Although this man here was kind enough to remind me," Lockhart said. "He also reminded me of the terrible things I've done— _shouted_ them, really. Golly, that doesn't sound like something I'd do, but I don't really know what I'd do, so who's to say?"

* * *

It took a few days for Hilda to regain her strength. When she could finally walk unaided, she and David left the infirmary and went to find Frida. Penelope Clearwater was kind enough to let her into the Ravenclaw dormitories.

She found Frida in her room, her bed curtains pulled shut. "Frida?" They parted the curtains and climbed in. Frida had the covers over her head. "Frida, please. Can we talk?"

Frida poked her head out from under the blanket. Her eyes were red from crying. "Hilda, I'm...I'm so sorry. I...I almost killed you, David, and Hermione...Draco."

"That wasn't you. Ginny wasn't responsible for Mrs. Norris and Colin and the others, and you're not responsible, either. It was all Vol—Tom's doing."

"I know," Frida grabbed a tissue from the box beside her. "I just...I was afraid that you'd never forgive me. After the fight in the Great Hall—"

"Forget the Great Hall."

"I was pushing you both too hard."

"You were only trying to help," David replied. "In your own special way."

"But then I found the diary—what happened to that, by the way?"

"I vaporized it," Hilda gave a guilty smile. "It's a long story."

"I thought I'd never get to apologize."

Hilda grabbed Frida's hand. "Well, now's the best time."

"I'm sorry."

"You said it already, I just wanted to hear you say it one more time."

Frida punched Hilda on the arm. "You prat!" she was laughing.

Hilda sat back on the bedspread. "So, I guess you've heard they canceled the exams."

Frida frowned. "I know. Six months of studying down the drain."

David grinned. "There's the Frida we know and love."

"David, there's a spider on your shoulder."

_"Hello."_

"...Did it just talk?"

Hilda laughed. "You have a lot of catching up to do."

* * *

That evening Hilda found Draco hiding among the stacks in the library. "I heard about your father."

Draco nodded, his expression blank. "They say he's hiding somewhere in Romania. He could be anywhere, really."

"I'm sorry."

"Don't be." Draco shook his head. "I...I still love him, you know. Despite what he did."

Hilda nodded. "I understand, I guess. You can't choose family."

"He's not all bad. You must think I'm stupid, but I believed him when he said he was never involved with the Dark Lord. It's terrible, to love someone since birth only to discover that you never really knew them."

"I heard you're going home tomorrow."

"I have to. I need to be with my mother. She's...it's been hard on her."

Hilda smiled and rested her hand atop his. "It'll be alright, Draco.

Draco held back his blush. "I hope so."

* * *

Hilda stopped before the gargoyle. " _Wonka Bar._ " She ascended the moving staircase and entered Dumbledore's office. The headmaster looked up from his paperwork and smiled. "Ah! Miss Dahl. Lemon drop?" He held out the dish of sweets. Hilda took one and sat down. "I've always had a sweet tooth. I find it keeps me from becoming bitter."

"Headmaster," Hilda began. "I want to talk to you about the basilisk."

"Ah," Dumbledore nodded. "Mr. Potter told me all about her. Who would have thought she was an expectant mother. I'd heard that basilisk eggs take a century or more to hatch. Tom was quite clever to exploit that, I'll give him that."

"What's going to happen to her?"

"I'm afraid action has already been taken. The Aurors took care of her a few days ago."

"Taken care of…" Hilda blanched. "You _killed_ her."

"I'm afraid so. They're probably down there right now, harvesting her hide and venom—very rare, so I've heard. My father used to wear what he claimed were basilisk-skin boots, but I think they were really alligator. Rather distasteful, either way."

"Why? She wasn't a threat."

Dumbledore sighed. "Miss Dahl, a happy basilisk is still a basilisk. It would be irresponsible to keep such a dangerous creature around, especially in a school environment."

"You could've relocated her."

Dumbledore shook his head. "Miss Dahl, you have a big heart, but you cannot save everything. The basilisk is a dark creature, and there is no place for dark magic at Hogwarts."

"It's not right. You can't kill something because you fear it. She was misunderstood."

"I'm sorry you feel that way. When you're older, you will understand. There is dark and light, and no room in between."

Hilda pushed her chair back and stood up. "You're wrong." For a moment her eyes flashed blue. She spun on her heel and stormed out of the office.

Dumbledore sighed. "There is darkness in her, Rasmus."

Rasmus Dahl emerged from the shadows. "She's been weakened, but I suspect she'll be back."

"Is she a threat?"

"No. Not yet. The path she's following, however, is troubling." He paused, his voice catching in his throat for a moment. "Can she be saved?"

"We can only hope." Dumbledore gestured for Rasmus to sit. "Now that you're back from the dead, perhaps you can explain what happened."

Rasmus leaned back in the chair and pulled his cigarette case from a robe pocket. "It's a long, long story, Albus."

"I have all the time in the world."

* * *

At some point during the flaying of the basilisk, Mundungus Fletcher pardoned himself to use the loo. He ducked down one of the sewer tunnels and scurried through the side chambers, eyes scanning the dark, slime-coated ground.

After ten minutes, his foot knocked against something. He knelt down and grinned at his find. "Gotcha!" Carefully, he lifted one of the basilisk eggs from its nest and inspected it. "What do you reckon you're worth down on Knockturn?" he asked, dreams of Galleons dancing through his head.

He tapped the egg. Something tapped back. Mundungus watched in horror as a piece of shell the size of a postage stamp cracked loose from the egg and fell to the ground, and a single glowing eye peered through it.

Fletcher dropped the egg and toppled to the floor, his last scream escaping his mouth with the sound of an asthmatic balloon deflating. His hand fell to rest beside the second egg, which began to rock back and forth.

A minute later, both newborn snakes gathered around the dead auror. You didn't need to know Parseltongue to understand their exited hisses.

_Feast._


	24. Epilogue: Appointment With Death

_Damnation, it was cold._

Lucius pulled his collar up against the wind and looked up at the trees. It was nearing summer and the branches were bare. Not a creature could be heard, just the swaying and cracking of the trees in the wind.

 _This is a haunted place_ , he thought. And he knew just who was haunting it. "How much farther?"

The local guide he'd bribed stopped and gestured ahead nervously. "There. I leave you here."

"Good."

"My pay?"

"Here's your pay." Lucius struck the man down with a cutting curse and stepped over his cooling corpse. If the man was willing to betray a secret for some coin, he couldn't be trusted with anything else.

The cave's jagged mouth reminded Lucius of the dead basilisk he'd seen in the Chamber. He lit his wand and entered the darkness. It was an unnatural darkness—as unnatural as everything else in this forest. His light only illuminated a few inches or so in front of him.

He'd made it a hundred yards when It appeared in the light. Lucius fell back in fright. _"Lucius Malfoy,"_ the wraith whispered, its voice booming in the cave. _"How long has it been? Eleven years? My, my, have you been avoiding me?"_

 _Merlin, it's true._ "N-no, my Lord," Malfoy quickly got into a kneeling position. "I thought you were dead."

Voldemort's laugh echoed through the cave. _"I took precautions, though not enough. I am weak, a mere shadow."_

Malfoy stood up. "You are still strong, still feared."

_"I wonder why it took you so long to come to me. I heard you renounced me, hiding behind your money like the pampered Pureblood coward you have always been. You're no better than Wormtail."_

"My Lord, I knew you would come back. I tried to bring you back myself. Your diary—"

 _"THE DIARY!"_ The mist surrounded Lucius and entered him through his nostrils. He gasped as his blood began to boil. _"It was you who let my journal be destroyed? Do you know what your incompetence has cost me?"_

Steam began to rise from Malfoy's reddening face. "My-my Lord, I was only doing my best. Please! Have mercy!" Voldemort let him go. He fell to the ground retching. "Thank you."

_"Enough groveling. Why are you here? Why now?"_

"I have something to show you." Malfoy reached into his robe pocket and produced a bottle of tears and a portable pensieve.

_"Memories? What good are these?"_

"They are my son's memories. I took them from him before I came to you. There is another force at play, my Lord. A girl."

_"Show me."_

Lucius poured his son's memories into the Pensieve and held it up to the wraith's face. "Look and see."

Voldemort's spectre peered deep into the bowl. A few minutes later he returned, a smile on his lips. "So, She lives."

* * *

**Here we are, the end of the first installment. I hope everyone has been enjoying it so far.**

**Year 3 should be a bit more relaxing, more in keeping with the cartoon. As the story is mainly Harry's, it will allow me to focus on some mini-adventures with Hilda and her friends.**


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